v/ 


M»  ANGSLSS,  CALIFORNIA 


\JX'.. 


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THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 


I'lioto  liy  Hciiiu-t.      C'ouncs,\   (jf  \;ii,'abon(i  PUiyers. 

nii:  i'\r(  iiwoRK  (  iitTAix  which  sippokts  thk  •■  vacahond"  idea 

A  liivflv  :iii(l  .--iniijlf  substitution  for  a  licavy  sclvot  curtain. 


':.^'r^ 


THE 
COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

IN  THEORY  AND  PRACTICE 

BY 

LOUISE  BURLEIGH 

With  Illustrations 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1917 

"\0  '^  ^>  '' 


Copyrii/IU,  J!)17, 
By  Littlk,  UitowN,  and  Company. 

All  rvjhts  reserved 
rublished,  September,  1917 


Nortonoli  ^rrsB 

Set  up  and  clectrotyped  by  J.  S.  Gushing  Co.,  Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 

Presswork  by  S.  J.  Parkl.ill  Si  Co.,  Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


SRlf 


TO 
CHARLOTTE  ELIZA  BURLEIGH 

WHOSE   GRATEFUIi   NIECE   CAN   NEVER   SUFFICIENTLY 

THANK    HER   FOR   A    LIVING    BELIEF 

IN   THE 

SPIRIT   OF   FELLOWSHIP 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

Prefatory  Letter ix 

Introduction xix 

I    The  Community 1 

II    Sociological  Theatre  :   Playgrounds  and 

Pageants 20 

III  Sociological  Theatre:    Caliban       .        .  34 

IV  Little  Theatres 54 

V    Democratic  Institutions    ....  72 

VI    A  CoLiJ}GE  Theatre            ....  84 

VII    The  World's  Example  of  the  Community 

Theatre 95 

VIII    What  the  Theatre  Offers        .        .        .  105 

IX    How  Shall  We  Organize?         .        .         .  117 

X    What  Can  Be  Done  With  Little    .         .  132 

XI    Suggestions 144 

XII    The  Theatrical  Renaissance    .        .        .158 

Appendix 163 


PREFATORY  LETTER 

Dear  Miss  Burleigh  : 

May  I  tliciiik  you  for  letting  me  see  the 
proof  sheets  of  your  book  "The  Community 
Theatre"?  And  may  I  congratuhite  you  and 
your  readers  on  the  fact,  rare  in  this  field,  that 
this  book  of  yours  has  been  produced  by  one 
who  is  a  worker  both  in  the  theatre  and  in 
the  community ;  for  the  fusion  of  the  arts  of 
the  one  with  the  aspirations  of  the  other  is 
the  practical  ideal  of  the  community  theatre. 

Actual    experience    in    both    fields    should, 

therefore,  precede  the  making  of  books  on  this 

most   practical    subject.     "After   the   practice 

—  the  theory,"  as  Gordon  Craig  writes  at  the 

head  of  his  journal,    The  Mask.     Yet  this  is 

too   seldom   the  case ;    for  the   workers   most 

skilled    and    effectual    are  nearly   always    too 

definitely  engaged  in  experiment  and  creation 

to  become  commentators  on  their   work;    so 

ix 


X  PREFATORY  LETTER 

that,  in  this  field,  the  reading  i)ul)lic  has  often 
turned  too  confidingly  to  the  writings  of  com- 
mentators untested  by  sufficient  real  contact 
with  their  subject  matter. 

Your  ardent  and  broad-spirited  work  speaks 
for  itself.  Examining  actual  conditions,  ar- 
tistic and  social,  it  points  forward  with  vision 
—  a  vision  not  too  far-focussed  for  present 
needs.  In  reaction  to  its  message,  it  is  for  me 
only  to  wish  your  book  Godspeed,  and  to 
touch  upon  a  few  aspects  of  its  theme  which 
your  treatment  suggests. 

I  do  this,  may  I  confess,  with  the  more  zeal 
because  I  find  your  pages  "backing  me  up"  in 
so  many  vital  things  which,  for  a  good  while, 
my  own  conviction  and  experience  have  brought 
home  to  me.  Many  of  these  I  have  set  forth 
very  sketchily  in  my  volume  "The  Civic 
Theatre",  a  bird's-eye-view  record  of  work 
and  thoughts  in  overcrowded  years,  published 
by  Mitchell  Kennerley  in  1912.  Again  in 
your  book  there  are  other  vital  matters  wherein 
I  feel  perhaps  we  differ,  rather  in  a  stage  of 
experience  than  in  the  goal  to  be  gained. 

As  example  of  our  common  ground  of  agree- 


PREFATORY  LETTER  xi 

ment,  in  your  Introduction  you  aptly  define 
the  Community  Theatre  as  "a  house  of  play 
in  which  events  offer  to  every  member  of  a 
body  politic  active  participation  in  a  common 
interest." 

In  my  volume  just  referred  to,  I  write : 

"A  civic  theatre  is  the  efficient  instrument 
of  the  recreative  art  of  a  community." 

Our  definitions,  you  see,  are  worded  differ- 
ently, but  clearly  their  meaning  is  the  same : 
"the  civic  theatre"  and  "the  community 
theatre"  of  our  intent  are  one  in  idea,  but  I 
think  "community  theatre"  is  the  better 
name  for  the  idea. 

In  our  goal,  then,  we  are  agreed.  On  our 
road  there  perhaps  at  times  we  go  by  different 
paths. 

In  a  letter  to  me,  referring  to  your  book, 
you  write:  "It  is  my  aim  to  point  out  that 
we  need  not  wait  for  a  revolution  to  found  a 
theatre  which  shall  belong  to  the  community, 
if  we  are  only  willing  to  examine  our  communi- 
ties and,  as  the  expression  is,  'begin  small.'" 

Now  if  by  that  expression  "begin  small"  you 
mean    "begin    modestly    an    immense    under- 


xii  PREFATORY  LETTER 

taking",  I  am  sincerely  in  accord  with  you. 
But  the  danger  is  lest  a  community,  in  be- 
ginning their  theatre  small,  should  see  it  small. 

That  would  be  fatal ;  for  from  its  very  be- 
ginnings, however  modest,  the  community 
theatre  must  be  seen  large  in  its  far-reaching 
ideal,  or  it  will  fail.  Its  founders,  in  short, 
must  have  real  vision  —  the  vision  to  realize 
the  deep,  revolutionizing  forces  it  sets  free, 
in  order  that  they  may  control  and  guide  them 
to  constructive  social  ends. 

It  is  from  that  conviction  that  I  have  written 
in  a  recent  essay  on  "Community  Drama" :  — 
"In  approaching  my  subject,  I  can  approach 
it  in  no  less  a  sense  than  a  world  sense.  .  .  . 
Community  Drama  is  testable  by  the  most 
modest  beginnings ;  but  the  scope  of  its  prin- 
ciple is  vast  —  or  it  is  nothing." 

So,  though  I  am  heartily  with  you  in  your 
high  valuation  of  little  theatres  as  centers  of 
community  expression,  I  am  none  the  less  sure 
that  numbers  of  such  have  actually  failed  of 
their  true  mission  because  they  have  not, 
from  the  start,  been  seen  large  by  their  founders. 
That  is  one  reason  why  I  believe  greatly  in  the 


PREFATORY  LETTER  xiii 

value  of  large-scale  community  festivals  as 
leavening  forerunners  not  only  of  the  right 
launching  of  little  theatres,  but  of  other  more 
special  group  organizations  in  social  art,  as  in 
community  song,  the  dance,  etc. 

Such  festivals,  in  forms  of  community 
masques,  dramas  and  pageants,  awaken 
popular  imagination  and  enlighten  public 
opinion  by  the  only  successful  means  ap- 
parently possible  —  the  tests  of  actual  ex- 
perience and  participation  by  representative 
numbers  in  the  cooperative  arts  involved. 

With  such  purposes  directly  in  mind,  I  laid 
out  the  large-scale  plan  of  the  Pageant  and 
Masque  of  Saint  Louis  and  the  structural 
form  of  "Caliban";  and  personal  observation 
and  experience  in  Saint  Louis,  New  York  and 
Boston  have  borne  out  by  results  my  belief 
in  the  efficacy  of  the  means  employed. 

To  mention  but  one  happy  instance,  and  the 
latest  to  strengthen  my  belief :  As  a  result  of 
the  three  weeks'  production  of  "Caliban"  last 
month  at  the  Harvard  Stadium,  a  permanent 
Caliban  Community  League  of  Greater  Boston, 
comprising  seventeen  Caliban  Clubs  in  differ- 


xiv  PREFATORY  T.ETTER 

ent  sections  of  the  community,  has  been  organ- 
ized "to  encourage  and  foster  the  community 
ideals  exemplified  in  Caliban  by  developing 
and  practicing  community  drama,  community 
singing  and  music  and  other  community  activi- 
ties in  which  all  citizens  may  cooperate"  — 
the  League  having  a  published  journal  of  its 
own,  "The  Caliban  News",  and  being  officered 
by  sincere  enthusiastic  workers  in  the  Masque, 
backed  by  the  loyalty  of  many  hundreds  of 
participants. 

One  mistake,  I  think,  we  who  write  books 
or  prefaces  should  do  our  best  to  avoid :  I 
mean  the  mistake  of  discussing  institutions, 
organizations,  classified  subjects,  as  "things  in 
themselves"  apart  from  the  human  persons 
who  actually  give  them  form  and  being.  Here, 
for  instance,  in  these  remarks  of  mine  and  in 
your  book,  are  discussed  such  classified  sub- 
jects as  the  Community  Theatre,  the  Little 
Theatre,  the  Masque,  the  Pageant,  the  Socio- 
logical Theatre.  But,  unavoidable  as  this 
use  of  terms  may  be,  do  these  things  ever 
exist  as  separate  entities  except  in  books.'* 
When    they    are    truly    significant,    are    these 


PREFATORY  LETTER  xv 

organic  agencies  ever  really  alive  apart  from 
their  creators? 

Looking  back  over  ten  years  or  more  of  work 
in  this  field,  the  truth  is  borne  in  upon  me  by 
many  experiences  that  the  forms  of  community 
drama,  though  they  involve  a  vast  social  co- 
operation, are  no  exception  to  the  law  that  art 
forms  and  their  organization  are  the  product 
of  personal  invention  on  the  part  of  artists  and 
organizers. 

Vast  spectacles  and  dances,  in  which  thou- 
sands participate  in  color  and  motion ;  noble 
compositions,  in  which  many  hundreds  take 
part  through  harmonious  sound ;  organiza- 
tions, through  which  multitudes  cooperate 
without  friction,  unaware  of  the  means  of 
their  doing  so  :  —  all  these  first  took  form  in 
the  imaginations  of  a  very  few  inventive  human 
beings,  single  or  in  small  groups ;  and  the  suc- 
cess or  failure  of  those  spectacles,  dances,  com- 
positions, organizations,  will  depend  in  large 
measure  on  the  technical  equipment  and  fore- 
sight of  those  human  first  causes  of  their  being. 

So,  to  treat  of  them  apart  from  their  himian 
causes  would  be  misleading.     Little  Theatres, 


xvi  PREFATORY  LETTER 

Community  Theatres,  Sociological  Theatres, 
etc.  will  depend  for  their  value  —  not  upon 
valuations  in  theory  and  classification,  but 
upon  actually  whose  theatres  they  are:  who 
conceives  them,  who  organizes  them,  who 
operates  them. 

This  is  not  to  minimize  the  immense  value, 
sociologic  and  artistic,  of  audiences  and  their 
influence  on  dramatic  art-forms,  justly  em- 
phasized in  your  book;  but  it  is  rightly  to 
raise  to  their  great  value  the  guiding  and 
creative  influences  of  those  artists  of  the 
theatre,  always  necessarily  few,  whose  re- 
sponsive imaginations  shape  the  forms  by 
means  of  which  audiences  and  participants  are 
enabled  to  cooperate  in  an  harmonious  whole. 

So  in  your  book,  if  I  may  venture  the  criti- 
cism, in  emphasizing  truly  as  you  do  the  un- 
doubted dramatic  renaissance  in  which  our 
country  is  taking  part,  and  even  in  stressing 
the  vital  significance  of  the  theatre  artist  in 
general,  I  wish  that  you  might  have  given 
more  direct  special  emphasis  to  those  living 
creative  personalities  in  America  —  such  as 
Robert  Edmond  Jones,  designer,  and  Arthur 


PREFATORY  LETTER  xvii 

Farwell,  composer  —  who  are  helping  to  shape 
the  destiny  of  the  community  theatre. 

The  social  forces  evoked  by  special  genius 
in  this  field  are,  of  course,  vaster  than  any 
individuals  involved.  How  eflficient  an  instru- 
ment of  these  forces  he  may  become  is  the 
test  of  the  community  artist.  So  it  is  that  I 
have  seen  the  community  drama  movement 
in  America,  by  virtue  of  its  own  democratic 
might,  grow  and  flourish  from  almost  nothing 
to  flowerings  of  awe-inspiring  grandeur;  and 
this,  with  practically  no  support,  in  its  strug- 
gling stages,  from  popular  journalism ;  and 
with  no  comprehending  attention  or  valuation 
accorded  to  it  by  those  critics  and  philosophical 
students  of  our  time  whom  the  thinking  public 
looks  to  and  counts  upon  to  interpret  the  vital 
signs  and  portents  of  democracy.  Neither  in 
journals  radical,  progressive,  or  conservative, 
appealing  to  the  general  public,  will  you  find 
yet  any  appropriate  recognition  of  the  power 
and  the  beauty  of  this  creative  movement : 
neither  in  "The  Masses",  nor  "The  New 
Republic",  nor  "The  Nation." 

Yet  happily,   though  the  social  critics  and 


xviii  PREFATORY  LETTER 

philosophers  might  conceivably  do  much  to 
help  it,  this  movement  is  self-reliant  in  the 
spirit  of  its  own  workers  and  participants  — 
the  living  spirit  of  that  art  which  is  true  de- 
mocracy. And  you,  Miss  Burleigh,  who  are 
one  of  those  real  workers,  may  take  joy  — 
through  this  gallant,  interpretive  emprise  of 
yours  —  in  joining  a  small  band  of  high- 
hearted pioneers,  in  whose  trail  —  when  it 
becomes  well  worn  —  the  formal  philosophers 
are  sure  to  follow. 

Meanwhile,  a  happy  work-time  to  you  and 

your  book ! 

Sincerely  yours, 

Percy  MacKaye. 

Cornish,  N.  H. 
7th  August,  1917. 


INTRODUCTION 

Of  the  many  changes  which  the  past  fifteen 
years  have  seen  in  our  theatre,  undoubtedly 
the  most  momentous  is  the  abohtion  of  the 
foothghts.  The  importance  of  their  banish- 
ment hes  not  in  the  artistic  value  but  rather 
in  the  spiritual  significance  of  the  achievement. 
The  footlights  were  a  barrier  between  the 
actor  and  the  audience.  By  them  the  theatre 
was  divided  into  two  distinct  and  separate 
parts,  like  two  countries  whose  common  bound- 
ary is  a  great  river  or  high  mountains.  In- 
deed, we  spoke  of  the  division  as  did  the  ancient 
Romans  of  the  Alps,  referring  to  "beyond  the 
footlights"  or  to  "this  side  of  the  footlights." 
The  removal  of  the  barrier  affects  not  only 
the  workers  on  the  stage  but  those  whose  task 
is  to  create  from  the  scats  of  the  auditorium 
—  for  the  need  for  active  cooperation  on  the 
part  of  the  audience  is  fast  becoming  a  com- 
monplace —  and  it  is  because  of  this  duality 


XX  INTRODUCTION 

that  the  innovation  is  more  important  than 
its  fellows. 

How  different  is  the  New  Theatre  from  that 
of  twenty  years  ago !  On  the  stage  side  of  the 
footlights  there  has  been  created  a  new  being, 
the  artist  of  the  theatre.  And  this  artist  of  the 
theatre,  about  whom  much  has  been  said  and 
written,  and  who  is  perhaps  best  compared  to 
the  leader  of  an  orchestra,  has  summoned  help 
from  all  the  arts  to  weave  a  new  texture  of 
beauty.  The  architect  and  the  sculptor  have 
brought  beauty  of  construction  and  cleared 
away  the  clutter  of  unneeded  detail ;  the 
painter  has  colored  the  setting  with  imagina- 
tion and  made  meanings  where  before  there 
were  only  haphazard  imitations  of  what  we 
see  every  day ;  the  musician  has  filled  pauses 
with  beauty ;  the  dancer  and  the  poet  have 
not  been  neglected ;  and  finally  even  the 
scientist  has  been  called  in  to  give  of  his 
knowledge.  It  is  as  if  the  stage  had  expanded, 
pushing  and  pushing  in  growth  until  it  burst 
its  restraint;  and,  flowing  over  the  footlights, 
it  extinguished  them  as  it  went,  and  finally 
reached  the  audience. 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

For  the  artist  of  the  theatre  has  always 
understood  that  all  the  means  at  his  com- 
mand are  but  instruments  for  the  service  of 
the  audience.  Without  the  audience  he  is 
lost.  The  movement  on  the  stage,  while  it  is 
the  reason  for  the  existence  of  the  spectators, 
cannot  escape  the  domination  exercised  by 
them.  It  is  the  aim  of  every  artist  in  the 
theatre  to  unite  the  spirits  of  his  audience  into 
one  thought  and  to  express  that  thought 
through  action  on  his  stage.  So  from  the 
beginning  of  the  theatrical  renaissance,  of 
which  we  are  now  a  part,  stage  directors  have 
been  reaching  out  over  the  audience,  and  in 
order  to  encourage  their  spiritual  cooperation, 
have  often  given  them  an  actual  physical  part 
to  play.  The  prologue  once  more  walks  our 
boards.  The  "Flowery  Way"  down  which 
the  actors  come  to  the  stage  has  been  set  up 
in  our  western  theatre  by  Professor  Reinhardt, 
following  the  happy  custom  of  Japan.  Mr. 
Stuart  Walker  has  personified  the  listener;  in 
one  of  his  plays  at  least,  "  You-in-the-Audience" 
not  only  speaks,  but  actually  wanders  up  to  the 
stage,  takes  part  in  the  play,  and  at  last  solves 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

the  quandaries  of  the  characters  to  every  one*s 
satisfaction.  It  seems  to  me  that  Mr.  Walker, 
who  has  the  instincts  of  the  stage  artist  so 
highly  developed  that  he  is  able  to  turn  from 
writing  to  acting  and  directing  with  perfect 
ease,  has  intuitively  hit  upon  a  great  truth, 
and  has  in  his  character  of  "You-in-the- 
Audience"  made  a  symbolical  forecast  of  the 
next  step  in  the  progress  of  the  theatrical  art. 
The  artists  of  the  theatre,  like  the  people 
in  Mr.  Walker's  charming  play,  have  done 
their  very  best.  It  is  time  for  "You-in-the- 
Audience"  to  go  up  and  take  a  hand. 

Now  just  as  it  is  true  that  changes  have 
swept  over  the  stage  in  the  theatre,  is  it  true 
that  something  has  happened  to  the  audience. 
The  architecture  of  our  Theatre  proves  it. 
The  old  theatres  were  made  up  of  tier  upon 
tier  of  boxes  and  galleries,  while  some  of  our 
newer  ones  have  less  than  three  hundred  seats. 
When  the  New  Theatre  was  built  in  New  York, 
its  construction  followed  the  old  lines,  and  the 
New  Theatre  failed  with  a  promptness  which 
has  been  referred  to  many  times  by  theatrical 
commentators.     Undoubtedly   there  is   a  pre- 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

dominance  of  the  style  of  play  which  demands 
an  audience  near  at  hand,  but  is  that  very 
predominance  not  a  symptom  rather  than  a 
disease  ?  The  kind  of  play  which  has  an  intel- 
lectual appeal,  fundamentally,  will  not  reach  a 
large  audience;  the  large  audience  demands 
great,  simple  emotions  :  conversely,  the  small 
audience  demands  a  limited  range  of  emotions 
and  usually  will  prefer  to  be  stirred  through 
the  intellect  than  through  the  emotions.  So  the 
Little  Theatre  in  New  York,  with  its  exquisite 
productions  of  intellectual  delicacies,  may  be 
thought  to  limit  its  audience  by  the  size  of  its 
auditorium.  Or,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  be 
considered  to  be  the  answer  to  a  demand  made 
by  a  few :  the  reply  perhaps  to  the  indifference 
of  thousands  who  have  gone  elsewhere  for  their 
entertainment  and  delight. 

For  we  have  in  our  theatre  everything  but 
an  audience.  Small  groups  of  interested  spec- 
tators there  are,  and  I  am  glad  to  believe  that 
the  number  is  increasing.  But  now  the  mass 
of  the  people,  the  people  with  simple  emotions 
and  simple  appreciations,  are  not  in  the  theatre. 
Where    are    they.'*     They    may    be    sleeping; 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION 

they  may  not  know  that  there  is  a  theatre. 
Miss  Jane  Addams  tells  a  poignant  tale  of  a 
Greek  fruit  vender  who  did  not  know  there 
were  Americans  who  loved  the  ancient  beauty 
of  his  country.  He  had  brought  with  him 
mementos  of  that  loveliness,  hoping  to  find 
interest  in  his  new  home;  but  his  customers 
refused  to  be  led  to  speak  of  Greece's  glory, 
and  it  was  only  when  he  happened  upon  a 
picture  of  the  Acropolis  at  Hull  House  that  he 
revealed  the  sketches  and  drawings  he  had 
made.  No  doubt  there  are  people  to  whom 
the  theatre  has  not  shown  herself  except  as  the 
home  of  false  values,  the  exhibition  room  of 
ugliness  and  even  of  vice.  How  glad  those 
people  would  be  to  be  discovered  by  the  artist 
of  the  theatre ! 

Others  of  the  audience  for  which  we  are 
seeking  may  be  in  the  motion-picture  theatres. 
The  architecture  once  more  seems  to  be  a  key 
.  .  .  the  old  theatres  have  many  of  them  been 
converted  into  "movie  houses"  or  have  been 
replaced  by  buildings  which  follow  in  some 
measure  their  generous  lines.  These  houses 
are  filled  not  once  a  day  but  again  and  again 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

from  morning  till  night.  Much  has  been  wisely 
said  and  much  foolishly  upon  this  matter. 
Authorities  differ  very  widely  upon  the  cause 
for  the  popularity  of  the  movie ;  one  would 
have  us  think  that  it  is  the  new  art  of  democracy 
in  its  toddling  infancy ;  another  assures  us  that 
it  is  popular  because  it  is  inexpensive;  and  a 
third  that  it  is  a  fad  and  will  soon  lose  its  sup- 
porters. No  doubt  there  is  truth  in  each 
statement ;  but  this  is  not  the  place  for  a  pro- 
longed discussion  of  the  value  of  the  motion 
picture  except  as  it  affects  the  audience  of  the 
spoken  drama. 

When  the  artist  of  the  theatre  looks  to  the 
motion-picture  house  for  the  audience  which 
he  desires,  his  first  query  will  be,  naturally, 
will  the  audience  come  back  to  the  spoken 
drama  from  the  silent  oncf^  Yes,  a  thousand 
times  yes.  The  motion  picture  may  develop 
into  many  things  which  it  is  not  in  its  present 
state,  but  it  will  never  replace  the  spoken 
drama.  The  motion-picture  enthusiast  does 
not  scorn  the  theatre.  Some  four  years  ago 
the  present  writer  was  acting  in  a  small,  ill- 
trained,    and    unpretending    company    whose 


xxvi  INTRODUCTION 

duty  was  to  fill  the  gaps  in  the  routine  of  films 
in  a  motion-picture  theatre.  The  manage- 
ment boasted  that  their  films  were  the  best  in 
the  city :  the  audience  paid  its  ten  cents  at 
the  door  and  demanded  full  value  for  it.  The 
hard-working  company  gave  hastily  prepared 
but  sincere  representations  of  good  one-act 
plays.  The  performance  flowed  steadily  from 
ten  in  the  morning  until  ten  at  night,  repeat- 
ing itself  three  times  during  the  day.  If  we 
accept  the  theory  so  often  put  forward  that 
the  movie  lover  loses  his  interest  in  the  spoken 
drama,  we  should  expect  to  hear  that  during 
the  playlet  the  audience  became  inattentive, 
or  perhaps  that  they  left  the  theatre  when  it 
was  announced.  This  was  not  true,  in  spite 
of  the  inferior  quality  of  the  acting  seen  in  the 
play  to  that  on  the  screen.  (Inferior  it  un- 
doubtedly was :  the  film  actors  were  artists 
ranging  from  John  Bunny  to  Sarah  Bernhardt !) 
But,  far  from  leaving  the  theatre,  the  audience 
applied  continually  at  the  box  office  for  the 
hour  of  the  play  in  order  that  they  might  not 
miss  it.  The  motion  picture  had  not  hurt 
the  audience  for  the  spoken  drama;    indeed,  I 


INTRODUCTION  xxvii 

think  there  had  been  the  creation  of  an  audience 
in  that  theatre.  Nor  was  its  audience  in  any 
way  unique  :  it  was  the  average  motion-picture 
audience.  Its  attitude,  then,  may  be  taken 
as  typical  of  motion-picture  audiences,  and  it 
is  safe  to  assume  that  they  are  in  general  ready 
to  be  called  back  into  the  theatre.  They  will 
come  no  doubt  with  a  new  taste,  but  come 
they  will.  The  artist  of  the  theatre  will  find 
them  with  lamps  trimmed  and  burning. 

But  there  are  other  signs  that  the  audience 
is  waiting  to  be  called  into  the  theatre.  A 
movement  which  had  fundamentally  no  con- 
nection with  the  art  of  the  theatre  has  brought 
the  audience  to  its  doors.  This  is  the  move- 
ment of  social  reorganization  led  by  the  social 
scientist. 

The  social  scientist  represents  the  audi- 
torium as  the  artist  of  the  theatre  does  the 
stage ;  he  seeks  to  awaken  his  group  to  con- 
sciousness of  self.  And  after  groping  here  and 
there  he  has  hit  upon  the  value  of  play,  es- 
pecially cooperative  play,  in  his  work.  And 
play  has  led  him  to  the  arts  of  the  theatre. 

Not   long   ago   in   our   puritanical   order   of 


xxviii  INTRODUCTION 

living,  play  was  despised.  Then  Froebel  dis- 
covered its  value  as  an  educative  force,  and 
when  it  had  won  its  way  so  far  into  our  lives, 
it  began  to  be  studied  for  its  own  sake.  The 
history  of  play  is  an  interesting  one  which  the 
world  cannot  afford  to  neglect.  It  carries  with 
it  the  sanity  and  joy  of  living,  and  because  it 
permits  the  expression  of  emotions,  it  leads  to 
art,  and  more  than  to  any  art,  to  the  art  of  the 
theatre. 

The  earlier  forms  of  play  to  which  the  social 
scientist  turned  were  undeveloped  expressions 
of  the  art  of  the  theatre.  The  playgrounds 
for  children  —  to  be  spoken  of  more  fully  later 
on  —  were  the  first  and  simplest  result.  The 
need  for  play  in  older  children  was  answered 
by  dance  halls  and  clubs,  and  the  development 
assumed  the  actual  outlines  of  the  theatrical 
art  in  the  first  dramatic  clubs  created  with  a 
social  end.  From  these  clubs  there  have  grown 
up  a  series  of  small  theatres  —  the  most  vigor- 
ous assertion  by  the  audience  that  it  wishes  to 
come  into  the  theatre. 

But  —  and  this  is  the  most  important  point 
of  all  —  the  audience  does  not  want  to   come 


INTRODUCTION  xxix 

into  the  theatre  to  sit  inert.  To  use  again 
the  phraseology  of  Mr.  Walker's  play,  *'You- 
in-the- Audience "  is  ready  to  mount  the  stage 
and  play  his  part;  the  artists  of  the  theatre 
have  done  all  they  can  as  yet ;  the  progress 
of  the  action  awaits  the  worker  from  the  audi- 
torium ;  and  the  most  vital  point  becomes  the 
method  by  which  the  audience  shall  be  taught 
to  assume  its  responsibilities.  It  seems  a  some- 
what terrifying  fact  that  the  success  or  failure 
of  the  theatre  must  rest  with  untaught  and 
untrained  people.  Will  the  art  of  the  theatre 
languish  and  die?  Can  the  yoke  of  art  be 
made  to  fit  a  democracy  ? 

Our  democracy    has  begun  the   solution  of 

similar    problems.     The    public    schools  —  im- 

1    perfect,  experimental,  everchanging,  but  under 

\  State  control  —  are  the  reply  to  a  demand  for 

I  education :     the   great   library    systems    which 

we  see  expanding  year  by  year,  are  the  answer 

'\    to  the  need  for  broader  culture;    certain  arts 

I   —  painting  and  sculpture  for  example  —  have 

i  half-way    recognition    in    museums;     and    yet 

none  of  these  things,  neither  education,  culture, 

^or  the  arts  of  painting  and  sculpture,  have  the 


XXX  INTRODUCTION 

purely  social  quality  which  is  inherent  in  the 
dramatic  art.  For  the  theatre  cannot  exist 
without  its  audience  ...  its  immediate,  liv- 
ing, breathing  audience.  It  is  as  much  a  con- 
cern of  all  the  people  as  the  conservation  of 
resources,  the  direction  of  labor,  and  the  pro- 
motion of  agriculture.  Shall  we  then  expect 
to  find  a  Commission  of  the  Theatrical  Arts  at 
Washington  ? 

Already  certain  artists  have  suggested  that 
something  of  the  kind  might  be  possible.  The 
government  is  fast  taking  over  every  subject 
which  concerns  the  public  good,  and  making  it 
the  business  of  the  government  to  administer 
such  matters;  why  not,  then,  the  question  of 
public  recreation? 

If  we  were  a  bureaucratic  state,  it  would  be 
a  simple  matter  to  impose  a  system  of  state 
theatres.  A  director  is  appointed,  let  us  say, 
a  chain  of  theatres  is  built,  and  each  is  put 
into  the  hands  of  an  expert,  who  instantly  draws 
about  him  a  staff  of  able  workmen  —  behold 
an  efficient  machinery  for  the  production  of 
Theatrical  Art !  And  yet  what  proof  have  we 
that  the  audience  which  stays  away  from  the 


INTRODUCTION  xxxi 

present  commercial  theatre  would  fill  the 
vacant  seats  of  one  which  came  as  the  gift  of  a 
paternal  despotism  ?  Even  if  they  did  come 
for  a  short  time  there  are  many  reasons  to 
suppose  that  they  would  not  continue  to  sup- 
port a  theatre  so  established.  A  state  theatre 
must  not  be  a  theatre  which  is  applied  to  the 
community  from  without  or  from  above;  it 
cannot  be  the  perfected  dream  of  artists ;  it 
must  spring  from  the  dreams  and  needs  of  the 
everyday  person,  the  need  for  expression  of  a 
whole  community.  When  individual  commu- 
nities have  felt  the  need  for  a  group  expression 
strongly  enough,  when  each  has  —  imperfect 
and  struggling  —  an  organization  for  the  ex- 
pression of  community  emotion,  there  will 
come  spontaneously  from  the  whole  people  the 
demand  for  a  central  art  direction.  It  will  be 
then  that  the  theatrical  art  will  be  in  flower, 
and  until  then  we  must  look  for  groping  and 
imperfection. 

In  these  chapters  it  is  the  aim  of  the  author 
to  consider  the  social  quality  of  the  dramatic 
art,  the  emotional  needs  of  an  ordinary  com- 
munity, and  to  point  out  that  each  may  have 


xxxii  INTRODUCTION 

its  greatest  opportunity  for  perfection  through 
a  theatre  based  upon  those  principles  upon 
which  democratic  institutions  must  be  built. 

And,  since  English  is  so  inaccurate  a 
language,  and  since  we  are  so  susceptible  to 
catch  phrases,  it  may  be  well  to  set  down  at 
once  the  meaning  of  the  term  "Community 
Theatre"  as  used  in  this  volume.  Later  it 
will  be  necessary  to  dissect  and  explain  at 
length  the  derivation  of  each  phrase,  but  at 
present  it  will  be  sufficient  to  express  it  as 
clearly  as  possible  in  order  that  no  misunder- 
standing may  arise. 

The  Community  Theatre  is  a  house  of  play  in 
which  events  offer  to  every  member  of  a  body 
politic  active  participation  in  a  common  interest. 

This  definition  is  broad  enough  to  allow  great 
latitude  in  its  local  application,  a  very  neces- 
sary quality  in  so  varied  and  heterogeneous  a 
state  as  our  own.  It  can  be  applied,  I  believe, 
with  no  fundamental  alteration  to  large  as  well 
as  to  small  communities,  just  as,  in  spite  of 
Plato's  assertion  that  it  could  not,  a  democratic 
form  of  government  has  been  found  successful 
in  states  of   over   five   tliousand   inhabitants. 


INTRODUCTION  xxxiii 

What  growth  may  come  to  the  community 
theatre  as  it  reaches  out  and  grows  under  the 
influence  of  practice  it  is  not  possible  to  imag- 
ine, but  we  should  be  indeed  visionless  if  we 
did  not  believe  that  its  flowering  will  exceed 
all  our  hopes.  It  is  this  quality  which  has  made 
democratic  institutions  beloved  of  poets  and 
seers  since  the  day  of  Pericles  in  Athens  when 
the  glimmerings  of  democratic  dawn  were  first 
visible  —  this  blossoming  beyond  the  belief  of 
those  who  sow  the  seed. 

And  yet,  in  spite  of  an  apparent  looseness  in 
the  general  terms  of  the  definition,  precise 
limits  have  been  set  for  the  community  theatre 
so  defined.  In  order  to  see  what  it  may  not 
and  what  it  must  not  do,  it  will  be  well  to  study 
with  attention  some  of  the  independent,  small, 
non-commercial  (in  the  usual  sense  of  Broad- 
way) theatres  which  have  come  into  being  all 
over  the  country.  They  offer  much  that  is 
practical  and  helpful  in  the  organization  of  the 
community  theatre,  even  while  they  prove 
that  the  fact  of  their  origin  outside  the  ranks 
of  the  theatrical  profession  is  not  sufficient  to 
endow  them  with  magical  virtues.     Followers 


xxxiv  INTRODUCTION 

of  the  Little  Theatre  movement  have  been  too 
eager  to  accept  any  independent  theatrical 
organization  and  to  assume  that  everything 
which  came  from  such  a  source  was  invariably 
fine.  On  the  other  hand,  the  enemies  of  the 
movement  have  been  quick  to  condemn  all 
Little  Theatres  as  the  feeble  striving  of  dabblers. 
As  is  usual,  the  truth  lies  somewhere  between 
these  two  extreme  views.  The  Little  Theatre 
has  made  contributions  to  the  art  of  the  theatre 
already,  but  its  greatest  gift  is  the  promise 
which  it  carries,  the  hope  of  the  theatre  as  an 
institution  of  the  people. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

For  the  use  of  photographs  I  am  indebted 
to  Mr.  Stuart  Walker  of  the  Portmanteau 
Theatre,  to  the  Vagabond  Theatre  in  Balti- 
more, the  Forest  Theatre  of  Carmel-by-the- 
Sea,  and  the  Idler  Club  of  Radeliffe  College. 

To  the  officers  of  these  theatres  and  their 
fellows  of  the  Appendix,  I  am  under  obligation 
for  continued  courtesy.  I  trust  that  in  some 
slight  way  the  results  may  prove  helpful  to  that 
enthusiasm  of  which  the  Little  Theatre  is  a 
sign. 

Finally,  I  owe  much  to  my  generous  friends. 
But  especially  do  I  wish  to  thank  Fraulein 
Mayer,  Mr.  Sheldon  Cheney,  and  Mr.  Percy 
MacKaye  for  the  benefit  of  their  experience 
conferred  by  an  unfailing  interest. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Patchwork  Curtain  which  Supports  the 

"Vagabond"  Idea    ....        Frontispiece 
A  lovely  and  simple  substitution  for  a  heavy  velvet 
curLiin. 

PACINQ   PAQB 

The  Seven  Gifts 28 

Played  in  Madison  Square,  before  five  thousand  peo- 
ple, on  Christmas  Eve.  An  excellent  example  of 
simplicity   of  line. 

Detail  of  a   Scene  from   Caliban,   by   Percy 

MacKaye SO 

Setting  by  Robert  Edmond  Jones.  The  use  of  the 
mask  was  revived  with  eminent  success. 

An  Outdoor  Play  at  Carmel-by-the-Sea,  Cali- 
fornia        62 

Gammer  Gurton's  Needle 70 

The  vigor  and  vitality  of  the  old  comedy  emphasized 
by  the  whimsy  uf  the  set. 

National  Sylvan  Theatre,  Washington,  D.  C.       71 

On  the  grounds  of  the  Washington  Monument. 

National  Sylvan  Theatre,  Washington,  D.  C.      80 

The  auditorium  during  preparations  for  a  perform- 
ance. 

The  Chinese  Lantern 138 

Produced  by  the  Idler  Club  of  Hadcliffe  College,  under 
the  direction  of  Mr.  Sam  Huuic. 
XXXV  ii 


>-X' 


C  r 


THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

CHAPTER  I 

The  Community 

Why  do  we  need  a  Community  Theatre? 
Let  us,  before  deciding,  look  for  a  moment  at 
the  modern  community. 

The  dictionary  says  that  a  community  is 
"a  body  poHtic;  any  body  of  persons  having 
common  interests,  privileges,  etc. ;  a  sharing 
or  participation."  Further,  that  useful  book 
quotes  in  exposition  of  the  word's  use,  this 
statement  from  J.  R.  Seeley,  "Three  ties  by 
which  states  are  held  together  are  community 
of  race,  community  of  religion,  and  commu- 
nity of  interest."  Using  this  definition  and 
this  quotation  as  a  basis,  let  us  examine  com- 
munities as  we  know  them,  to  discover  just 
how  closely  the  meaning  of  the  word  may 
be  said  to  apply. 

Modern  communities  are  communities  only 
1 


2         THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

in  the  loosest  sense  in  which  the  word  can  be 
taken,  A  city  is  a  great  group  of  people  liv- 
ing within  certain  geographical  limits.  It  is 
to  be  sure  "a  body  politic",  but  it  has  no 
common  interests  which  weld  it  into  a  great 
whole;  except  in  one  case  in  a  thousand  there 
is  not  the  least  sign  of  participation  in  a  com- 
mon life.  This  principle  is  equally  true  in  the 
small  communities,  but  it  is  more  self-evident 
in  a  large  city.  The  commercial  organization 
of  society  is  based  primarily  upon  competition 
which  has  resulted  in  disunion  rather  than 
cooperation.  The  effects  can  be  most  clearly 
seen  in  the  great  centres. 

What  homogeneity  is  there  in  an  American 
city?  Every  race  of  the  earth  goes  to  make 
up  the  citizenry.  This  is  no  longer  true 
merely  of  eastern  cities,  it  is  true  of  all  cities, 
east,  west,  north,  and  south.  Nor  are  the 
European  and  Asiatic  newcomers  the  only 
foreigners;  there  are  as  well  those  hordes  of 
country-born  and  country-bred  city-dwellers 
to  whom  the  city  always  seems  strange.  Some- 
times the  inhabitants  of  one  locality  in  a  city 
have  brought  with  them  traditions  which  they 


THE   COMISIUNITY  3 

hold  in  coiimioii,  but  they  are  the  traditions  of 
another  phice  and  of  an  okler  race  than  the 
city  in  which  they  live.  So  we  find  a  Ghetto, 
an  Italian  quarter,  a  German  colony,  and  a 
French  settlement,  each  preserving  the  mem- 
ory of  home  perhaps,  but  entering  into  the  life 
of  the  American  city  of  which  it  is  a  part, 
without  organization,  without  any  definite  and 
common  ground  except  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence. 

Yet  all  our  cities  have  made  partial  attempts 
to  find  some  sort  of  common  ground  for  their 
inhabitants.  The  working  people  have  or- 
ganized themselves  into  unions  of  the  various 
trades,  feeling  for  fellowship  as  well  as  for 
financial  gain.  But  unions  are  limited,  and 
they  include  fe,w  of  the  people  in  a  great  city, 
even  wlien  they  are  bound  one  to  the  other  in 
a  kind  of  Super-Union.  They  do  not  supply 
the  need  for  an  amalgamating  force,  but 
rather  they  tend,  like  everything  else  in  a  great 
commercial  centre,  to  emphasize  the  difference 
between  one  class  of  citizens  and  another. 

To  be  sure,  in  cities  everywhere  a  system  of 
organized  play  has  grown  up,  there  are  munici- 


4        THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

pal  entertainments,  municipal  baths,  and  parks 
which  are  certainly  for  all  the  population. 
Notwithstanding,  such  provisions  made  by 
the  city  are  regarded  not  as  a  privilege,  but 
rather  as  a  last  resort;  we  do  not  find  all 
New  York  splashing  happily  in  the  Public 
Baths !  Every  class  of  citizen  may  be  seen 
in  Central  Park,  to  be  sure;  artists  paint 
it,  leaders  of  society  gallop  along  the  bridle 
paths,  children  of  the  very  rich  feed  the  swans, 
and  tattered  little  boys  play  at  hide  and  seek 
in  the  shade  of  the  trees ;  but  in  all  this  there 
is  nothing  which  draws  these  individuals  closer 
together.  There  is  nothing  beyond  what  lies 
in  the  common  possession  of  paved  streets 
and  a  water  supply.  Taxes  pay  for  the  smooth- 
ness of  the  lawns,  everything  is  impersonal, 
removed  from  actual  experience.  It  must  of 
necessity  be  so,  but  think  what  a  difference 
could  be  made  if  the  millionaire  whose  motor 
slips  daily  along  those  level  drives  and  the 
lounger  who  eats  his  dry  roll  on  the  green 
carpet  were  personally  responsible  for  the  care 
and  the  beauty  of  that  park;  if,  for  example, 
each  threw  off  his  coat  and  bent  his  back  to  a 


THE  COMMUNITY  5 

lawn  mower,  one  day  in  the  year,  by  the  side 
of  the  other !  Would  the  great  park  be  then  a 
mere  physical  accident,  a  geographical  bond? 
But  beyond  the  impersonal  quality  of  public 
possessions,  all  those  of  the  city  have  tended, 
because  of  our  capitalistic  and  commercial 
organization  of  the  state,  to  separate  individ- 
uals into  classes  rather  than  to  unite  all  classes 
into  a  unified  community.  Parks,  libraries 
and  even  the  public  schools  have  been  looked 
upon  as  a  beneficence,  almost  as  a  charity, 
provided  for  the  poor  by  taxing  the  rich.  The 
children  of  well-to-do  parents  and  of  the 
professional  classes  are  sent  to  private  schools, 
they  play  in  the  parks  under  the  eyes  of  nurses, 
and  when  they  grow  old  enough  to  use  the 
library,  there  is  little  in  the  quiet  of  the  great 
reading  room  to  inspire  the  feeling  that  every 
reader  is  a  fellow  citizen,  sharing  the  store  of 
knowledge  for  which  the  library  stands,  striving 
for  the  same  ideals,  and  equally  responsible  for 
the  beauty  of  a  common  life.  It  is  natural 
that  cities  built  upon  a  basis  of  commercial 
enterprise  should  emphasize  differences  in 
wealth  as  they  grow;    the  accident  of  locality. 


6        THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

—  rich  and  poor  do  not  live  side  by  side,  — 
such  everyday  matters  as  means  of  transporta- 
tion, places  and  manner  of  worship,  the  devices 
employed  for  entertainment,  all  tend  to  widen 
the  breach. 

For  example,  take  religion.  What  com- 
munity can  be  united  in  a  common  religion? 
Toleration  in  religious  belief  is  perhaps  more 
fundamental  than  any  other  tenet  in  the 
creed  of  our  democracy :  not  only  in  cities  but 
everywhere.  In  the  smallest  settlements  spire 
strives  against  spire  to  attest  the  liberty  we 
suffer  in  the  worship  of  God.  Great  cities 
harbor  strange  beliefs,  old  and  new,  un- 
prosecuted.  But  even  the  followers  of  a 
single  creed  are  not  necessarily  united.  This 
is  true  primarily  in  cities  where  the  ritual  of 
worship  varies  less  widely  than  the  ritual  of 
social  life.  It  is  a  tragic  reality  that  the 
union  achieved  when  men  kneel  side  by  side 
in  prayer  is  more  than  offset  by  the  fact  that 
the  one  walks  home  to  cabbage  with  boiled 
beef  while  the  other  is  borne  in  a  liveried  car- 
riage to  the  fastidious  ceremony  of  course  upon 
course.     Moreover,  in  cities  the  poor  man  and 


THE   COMMUNITY  7 

the  rich  one  do  not  worship  side  by  side. 
Fashionable  churches  support  missions  which 
share  their  creeds  and  even  their  management, 
but  which  prevent  actual  contact  between  those 
who  should  be  neighbors.  Once  more  the 
simple  accident  of  geography  has  made  a  high 
barrier. 

Common  ancestors  have  vanished.  A 
common  worship  no  longer  exists.  There 
remains  only  the  "community  of  interest" 
of  which  Mr.  Seeley  speaks.  Clearly  our 
cities  have  none.  Now  and  then,  temporarily, 
a  sporadic  interest  arises  strong  enough  to 
reach  all  the  inhabitants :  there  is  need  for  a 
drainage  system ;  or,  some  keen  demand  of 
the  schools,  some  widespread  lack  in  public 
works,  which  molds  the  citizens  into  a  single- 
minded  body.  But  when  the  end  is  achieved, 
there  is  certain  to  be  a  lapse  into  the  old  dis- 
organization. 

The  most  evident  needs  in  our  modern  life 
are  those  which  spring  from  great  disasters. 
For  example,  in  Salem,  Massachusetts,  there 
was  a  great  and  terrible  fire,  destroying  life 
and  property  and  calling  out  the  most  simple 


8        THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

and  most  human  qualities  and  emotions.  Re- 
sponse was  instant.  Life  grew  simple  in  a 
moment,  and,  overnight,  strangers  were  con- 
verted into  neighbors.  And  as  long  as  the 
emotion  lasted,  the  cooperation  held  them  to- 
gether; then  life  settled  once  more  into  its 
normal  rut.  So  too,  on  the  dock  of  a  great 
steamship  line,  a  group  of  strangers  gathered 
to  say  bon  voyage  to  those  who  were  sailing  to 
the  danger  zone :  before  the  gangplank  was  up 
there  was  a  fellowship  among  them,  and  when 
the  last  sight  of  the  boat  had  failed,  they  walked 
quietly  away,  chatting  together  like  friends. 
One  after  another  we  have  seen  the  countries 
of  the  world  welded  into  units  by  the  horrible 
blast  of  war,  by  the  influence  of  a  great  idea 
clothed  in  terms  of  human  emotion.  Is  it 
not  possible  to  apply  the  lesson  which  it 
teaches  to  peace,  to  our  lives  as  we  live  them, 
day  by  day? 

It  is  more  than  possible  —  it  is  being  done. 
Organizations  for  peace  are  becoming  more 
and  more  popular :  the  Red  Cross,  which 
originated  in  war,  has  carried  its  usefulness 
over  into  the  fighting  of  accidents  and  calami- 


THE  COMMUNITY  9 

ties  of  peace,  the  Boy  Scouts  are  organized 
primarily  for  everyday  life,  and  here  and  there 
all  over  the  country,  pageants  and  masques  have 
been  springing  up  to  rouse  civic  interest  and 
civilian  pride. 

The  case  of  the  city  of  St.  Louis,  although 
most  often  cited,  is  perhaps  more  conclusive 
than  any  other.  Civic  reform  is  valuable  only 
when  it  is  permanent,  and  it  will  not  be  perma- 
nent if  it  is  not  the  work  of  all  the  citizens. 
The  few  in  St.  Louis  who  felt  the  need  of  a  new 
charter  and  of  the  completion  of  a  great-  munici- 
pal bridge,  knew  that  these  things  must  be 
the  work  not  of  the  few,  but  of  the  entire 
citizenry.  And  with  an  insight  which  bespeaks 
great  things  for  our  future  as  an  artistic  unity 
and  as  a  unified  nation,  they  turned  to  the  arts 
of  the  theatre  to  accomplish  the  persuasion  of 
the  citizens.  The  result  was  the  achievement 
for  which  they  were  seeking  —  the  new  charter 
was  made  and  the  bridge  was  built  —  more- 
over, there  is  the  promise  of  more  permanent 
union  in  artistic  causes  in  St.  Louis. 

But  the  organization  of  a  complex  and 
diffuse  group  like  the  cily   is  naturally  more 


10      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

difficult  than  that  of  a  smaller  one.  So  the 
Masque  of  Caliban,  produced  in  celebration 
of  the  Shakespeare  Tercentenary,  was  less 
visibly  successful  than  the  Masque  of  St.  Louis ; 
and  just  so  the  smaller  and  more  intimate 
attempts  in  villages  have  been  more  imme- 
diately effective.  However,  the  need  for  a 
unifying  force  is  none  the  less  present  in  the 
small  than  in  the  large  commimity :  there  is 
perhaps  a  more  crying  demand  for  a  common 
interest  in  small  isolated  villages  than  in  the 
great  cities. 

It  used  to  be  true  of  American  villages  that 
they  were  somewhat  held  together  by  ties  of 
race.  Now  most  villages  fall  into  two  classes, 
those  which  have  not  been  reinforced  from  the 
new  material,  and  those  which  have  more  new 
blood  than  they  have  assimilated.  Every 
frequenter  of  the  backwater  of  New  England 
is  familiar  with  the  tragedy  of  the  town  where 
intermarriage  has  been  the  rule  for  four  or  five 
consecutive  generations,  and  from  which  the 
youth  and  the  rugged  strength  has  been 
sapped  by  emigration  with  no  renewal  from 
outside.     Such  towns  usually  have  an  appalling 


THE  COMMUNITY  11 

percentage  of  degenerates  and  invalids,  and  in 
such  towns  there  is  practically  no  industry; 
the  people  make  a  living  —  meagre  as  it  is  — 
and  ask  for  nothing  more.  There  is  no  joy, 
no  vitality,  no  life  in  the  real  sense.  Social 
life  is  a  set  of  conventions,  religion  is  the 
following  of  a  dogma ;  men  breed  and  feed 
and  die.  Vice  in  the  most  dreadful  forms  exists 
in  these  villages,  hand-in-hand  with  disease  of 
body  and  mind.  When  the  outside  world 
comes  to  visit  them  it  brings  more  of  a  curse 
than  a  blessing,  for  it  usually  comes  seeking 
pleasure,  and  the  natives  find  the  most  super- 
ficial and  unfortunate  characteristics  supreme 
in  the  advent  of  "summer  people."  What- 
ever rural  simplicity  may  have  existed  is  de- 
stroyed by  the  intrusion  of  a  sophisticated 
point  of  view,  and  Ihe  fraction  of  the  country 
folk  who  do  not  emulate  the  newcomer,  gen- 
erally join  forces  against  him. 

In  the  little  village  of  X  — —  there  is  one 
long  main  street  upon  which  most  of  the  four 
hundred  inhabitants  live.  Not  far  away  there 
is  a  summer  colony  centred  round  an  hotel,  and 
scattered  throuijh  the  town  are  houses  which 


12      THE   COM^IUNITY  THEATRE 

are  closed  in  winter,  but  which  are  still  con- 
sidered an  integral  part  of  the  village.  The 
owner  of  such  a  house,  Mrs.  Norman,  whose 
years  of  good  citizenship  had  endeared  her  to 
the  community,  met  in  a  distant  city  a  village 
woman,  Mrs.  Prince.  They  chatted  long  about 
the  distant  little  town :  Mrs.  Prince  had  much 
to  tell  of  what  had  happened  on  the  quiet 
street.  In  leaving  Mrs.  Norman  remembered 
to  send  a  message  to  a  neighbor,  the  friend  of 
years,  whose  unobtrusive  cottage  lay  between 
her  own  large  house  and  that  of  Mrs.  Prince. 
Mrs.  Prince  hesitated.  "But  I  shall  probably 
not  see  her  before  you  do,"  she  said.  "Of 
course,  one  can  not  know  every  one,  even  in 

X ." 

Clearly  there  is  need  for  some  force  which 
shall  offset  so  false  a  social  standard,  and  for 
this  force  it  is  hopeless  to  look  to  the  Church. 
Once  more  the  toleration  which  is  our  pride 
serves  to  divide  rather  than  to  weld  the  factors. 
In  most  villages  of  such  a  type  there  are  too 
many  churches  —  half  filled  and  sleepy.  The 
unfortunate  preacher  is  unable  to  do  anything 
for  his  parish ;    often  he  wishes  to  unite  with 


THE   COMMUNITY  13 

some  other  church  and  is  prevented  by  tradi- 
tion, and  the  most  he  can  do  is  to  struggle 
along  cheerfully,  underpaid  and  overworked. 
The  younger  people  find  the  church  stupid; 
there  is  no  new  life  in  it.  They  have  deserted 
the  puritanical  standards  of  their  fathers,  and 
they  want  to  dance,  to  sing,  to  enjoy  life ;  but 
such  matters  are  not  considered  the  problems 
for  which  the  Church  exists,  and  so  the  young 
people  gather  at  the  corner  drug  store  instead 
of  in  the  church. 

In  other  settlements  a  new  problem  is  in- 
troduced by  an  influx  of  Roman  Catholic 
peoples.  These  are  the  towns  which  have 
industries,  factories,  and  mills  to  which  newly- 
made  Americans  are  carried  by  their  employ- 
ment. And  where  lately  was  a  quiet  town 
with  traditions  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  with 
a  population  largely  "American-born",  there 
is  suddenly  a  flood  of  broken  English  and  the 
chatter  of  strange  tongues ;  a  new  town  springs 
up  within  the  old  one  yet  apart  from  it.  Once 
more  the  pro})lem  is  one  of  amalgamation. 
How  shall  the  strange  elements  be  mingled 
and  made  one  ?     Not  through  race,  not  through 


14      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

religion,  but  through  some  institution  which 
shall  offer  a  common  interest  —  an  interest 
which  shall  include  all  the  varieties  and  which 
shall  by  that  very  inclusion  teach  the  one  to 
understand  the  other. 

The  diversity  of  race  which  is  after  all  the 
most  outstanding  fact  of  our  population  is 
considered  by  many  people  a  cause  for  agita- 
tion. From  time  to  time  staggering  statistics 
are  published,  and  intelligent  people  read  them 
with  anxious  expressions.  At  all  times  and  in 
all  places,  "peril"  and  "menace"  are  spoken 
as  synonyms  for  immigration.  It  is  said  that 
the  newcomers  from  Southern  Europe  are  espe- 
cially dangerous  to  our  democracy  —  and  yet, 
democracy  was  first  dreamed  of  in  Greece, 
and  Rome  built  the  first  republic. 

Those  who  have  been  privileged  to  know 
intimately  certain  of  our  "foreign"  population 
feel  quite  at  ease  as  to  the  outcome  .  .  .  if 
we  can  make  use  of  the  good  impulses  before  the 
bad  ones  have  been  fostered  by  those  who  would 
twist  them  to  evil  ends.  They  are  so  eager  to 
be  Americans,  so  ready  to  believe  all  that 
is  fine   of   their   new   country.     There    is  not 


THE   COMMUNITY  15 

the  least  hesitation  in  their  minds  as  to 
their  nationahty,  even  before  the  intricacies 
of  the  Enghsh  language  are  wholly  under- 
stood. It  would  be  possible  to  multiply 
examples  to  prove  this,  but  one  story  will  be 
sufficient. 

In  a  little  New  Hampshire  village  settled 
long  ago  by  straight-laced  Protestants,  a  tiny 
wooden  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  been  built, 
in  which  the  good  Father  every  Sunday  says 
Mass,  preaching  not  only  in  English,  but  in 
French  as  well,  for  those  of  his  flock  who  have 
not  yet  picked  up  the  strange  tongue.  The  faces 
of  the  congregation  are  laughing  Celtic  faces, 
some  Irish  and  some  French  :  there  is  not  one 
Anglo-Saxon  among  them  all.  Across  the  way, 
however,  descendants  of  the  early  settlers  still 
gather  in  the  half  vncant  and  wholly  uncomfort- 
able pews  of  the  neat  white  Congregational 
Church.  They  speak  with  no  little  scorn  of  their 
neighbors,  usually  calling  them,  "them  cath'lic 
furreners." 

But  one  summer  day  when  the  warm  air 
inspired  dullness  and  drowsiness,  the  priest 
made  an  appeal  to  his  people  which  rang  so 


16      THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

clearly  even  in  his  broken  English  that  it  could 
be  heard  across  the  silent  village  street  in  the 
calm  of  the  long  prayer.  The  collection  for 
the  day  was  to  be  used  to  heat  the  church  in 
winter;  it  was  necessary  that  the  imaginations 
of  his  flock  be  roused.  He  expostulated  and 
besought  them,  drawing  a  vivid  picture  of  the 
shivering  during  Christmas  Mass,  and  finally 
—  not  without  a  perceptible  twinkle  of  amuse- 
ment —  he  said  that  he  should  descend  from 
the  chancel  and  pass  the  plate  in  person.  It 
was  here  that  his  voice  grew  tense  with  indigna- 
tion at  the  thought  of  the  comparison  which 
he  was  about  to  make.  "I  must  take  the 
collection  !"  he  cried.  "There  are  some  people 
who  will  not  give  until  the  collection  is  made 
by  the  priest  .  .  .  and  there  are  people  who 
give  one  penny  Sunday  after  Sunday  .  .  . 
who  give  to  the  Church  of  God  what  they  would 
throw  to  a  monkey  sitting  on  the  shoulder  of  a 
foreigner  with  a  hand  organ!"  And  his  voice 
had  the  same  note  of  pride  which  might  have 
been  heard  across  the  way  among  the  first 
families  ! 

And  that   "foreigner"  with  the  monkey  — 


THE   COMMUNITY  17 

what  was  he  in  his  own  thought?  Not  a 
foreigner,  not  an  Italian ;  no,  he  like  the 
others,  was  an  American.  And  so  through  all 
the  diversity  of  race  there  is  in  our  State  a  bond 
which  is  stronger  and  finer  than  any  mere 
physical  tie  could  ever  be  —  the  spiritual 
community  of  ideals  to  which  Mr.  Wilson 
gave  voice  in  a  speech  to  new  citizens  in 
Philadelphia  on  the  tenth  of  May,  1915.  I 
can  do  no  better  than  to  set  down  in  Mr. 
Wilson's  own  words  the  expression  of  those 
ideals : 

You  who  have  just  sworn  allegiance  to  this 
great  government  were  drawn  across  the  ocean 
by  some  beckoning  finger,  by  some  belief,  by 
some  vision  of  a  new  kintl  of  justice,  by  some 
expectation  of  a  better  kind  of  life. 

No  doubt  you  have  been  disappointed  in 
some  of  us,  and  some  of  us  are  very  disappoint- 
ing. No  doubt  what  you  found  here  did  not 
seem  touched  for  you,  after  all,  with  the  com- 
plete beauty  of  the  ideal  which  you  had  con- 
ceived beforehand ;  but  remember  this,  if  we 
have  grown  at  all  poor  at  the  ideal,  you  have 
brought  some  of  it  with  you.  A  man  does  not 
go  to  seek  the  thing  that  is  not  in  him.  A 
man  does  not  hope  for  the  thing  that  he  does 
not  l)elieve  in,  and  if  some  of  us  have  forgotten 
what  America  believed  in,  you,  at  any  rate. 


18      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

imported  in  your  own  hearts  a  renewal  of  the 
belief. 

That  is  the  reason  why  I  for  one,  make  you 
welcome.  If  I  have  forgotten  in  any  degree 
what  America  was  intended  for,  I  will  thank 
God  if  you  remind  me.  I  was  born  in  America. 
You  dreamed  dreams  of  what  America  was  to 
be,  and  I  hope  you  brought  the  dreams  with 
you.  No  man  who  does  not  rightly  see  visions 
will  ever  realize  any  high  hope  or  undertake 
any  high  enterprise,  and  just  because  you 
brought  the  dreams  with  you,  America  is 
more  likely  to  realize  the  dreams  such  as  you 
brought. 

So  if  you  come  into  this  great  nation,  you 
will  have  to  come  voluntarily,  seeking  some- 
thing which  we  have  to  give.  All  that  we  have 
to  give  is  this :  we  cannot  exempt  you  from 
work.  We  cannot  exempt  you  from  strife, 
the  heart-breaking  burden  of  the  struggle  of 
the  day  that  has  come  to  mankind  everywhere. 
We  cannot  exempt  you  from  the  loads  that  you 
must  carry :  we  can  only  make  them  light  by 
the  spirit  in  which  they  are  carried,  because 
it  is  the  spirit  of  hope,  it  is  the  spirit  of  liberty, 
it  is  the  spirit  of  justice. 

Our  State,  even  in  its  small  communities, 
cannot  be  held  together  by  race  nor  by  religion. 
For  a  unifying  force  we  must  find  a  living  ex- 
pression of  a  great  common  ideal :  we  must 
depend   upon   a   community   of   interest :     we 


THE   COMMUNITY  19 

must  find  an  institution  in  which  great  and 
small  can  find  expression.  The  art  of  the 
theatre,  or  more  precisely,  the  allied  arts  of 
the  theatre,  are  utterly  calculated  to  perform 
this  service. 


CHAPTER  II 

Sociological  Theatre:    Playgrounds  and 
Pageants 

A  SOLEMN  small  boy  bent  double  over  a 
sand  pile  is  not  an  unusual  sight.  Drawing 
deep  breaths  in  his  concentration,  he  remains 
absorbed  until  the  task  which  he  has  set  for 
himself  is  completed.  Then,  with  a  glance  of 
triumphant  pride,  he  is  likely  to  turn  to  the 
nearest  bystander  with  some  such  brevity  as 
"See!" 

It  used  to  be  only  on  beaches  at  the  seashore 
and  in  back  yards  that  we  came  upon  children 
thus,  but  now  even  in  the  most  crowded  parts 
of  our  precipitate  cities,  there  are  scattered 
groups,  the  nucleus  of  a  giant  organism,  the 
germ  of  the  recreation  centre.  And  the  flat, 
insignificant  sand  bin  traces  its  growth  back 
through  a  numerous,  distinguished  ancestry. 
In  its  extraordinary  pedigree  are  names  which 
20 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND  PAGEANTS    21 

seem  to  liave  little  in  common  with  an  un- 
assuming heap  of  sand.  Plato,  Kant,  Hegel, 
Schiller,  Froebel,  Groos,  and  James  are  there, 
with  Stanley  Hall,  Judge  Lindsey,  and  Joseph 
Lee.  The  thought  of  generations  conceived, 
and  the  practical,  present-day  energy  gave 
birth  to  it.  But  it  does  not  rest  on  the  glory 
of  its  family  tree :  it  is  not  only  a  descendant 
of  illustrious  persons.  The  sand  pile  is  already 
an  ancestor :  it  has  gi\'en  us  the  recreation 
centre,  the  city  playground.  And  from  the 
playground  other  great  gifts  are  coming. 

"See,"  demands  the  small  sand  digger,  and 
holds  up  a  box  cover  mounded  with  the  shining 
grains.  What  do  we  see.?  Not  a  mud  pie: 
this  is  rather  a  doorway  opened  into  the  long 
corridors  of  nuui's  most  ancient  instincts. 
Here  is  the  culmination  of  the  universal  im- 
pulse to  play,  the  psychological  analysis  of 
that  impulse,  and  its  relation  to  the  history 
of  mankind's  progress. 

From  an{i(juity  there  has  been  discussion  of 
the  values  of  i)l;iy.  But  witli  the  new  science 
of  psycliology  came  a  discovery  whicli  gave  it 
a  fresh  imj)(*;'[:nic(%    IliaL   is,   llial  ])iay   is   not 


22      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

only  useful  but  actually  necessary  to  human 
life.  The  study  of  play  and  its  subdivision 
into  categories  is  complex  and  often  confusing : 
it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  we  have  seen  it  proved 
how  play,  directed,  becomes  education. 

This  great  contribution  to  our  constructive 
philosophy  came  from  Germany,  and  is  amaz- 
ingly modern,  Froebel,  to  whom  we  turn  for  a 
crystallization  of  the  ideas  most  fundamental 
in  child  psychology,  assures  us  that  education 
must  be  through  self-activity.  The  child, 
playing,  molds  himself  into  a  man.  By 
struggling  with  the  gesture,  he  learns  the 
meaning.  So  the  kindergarten,  out-of-doors, 
with  its  gartener  to  lead  and  direct  the  chil- 
dren's happy  occupation,  may  well  be  called 
the  first  playground. 

But  when  we  turn  to  those  centres  of  city 
recreation  which  are  given  the  name  in  America, 
we  find  the  earliest  attempts  coming  from  iso- 
lated benevolent  social  organizations.  The 
first  playgrounds  were  in  Boston,  but  sponta- 
neous growths  having  no  apparent  connection 
with  them  followed  in  New  York  and  in  other 
cities.     In    the    year    1906,    the    Playground 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND   PAGEANTS    23 

Association  of  America  was  organized,  although 
at  that  time  there  were  only  twenty  cities  in 
which  playgrounds  were  being  kept  alive.  The 
number  has  grown  by  leaps  and  bounds,  the 
activities  have  increased  and  multiplied :  no 
longer  a  group  of  sand  piles  in  a  vacant  lot 
constitutes  all  that  is  necessary ;  there  is 
complex  apparatus  and  a  trained  corps  of 
directors.  And  from  the  impulse  of  scattered 
individuals,  it  has  become  a  movement  of 
municipalities. 

The  primary  function  of  the  playground  was 
to  give  space  and  opportunity  for  children  to 
satisfy  their  natural  and  necessary  impulse 
to  play.  Sand  boxes,  with  other  equipment 
—  swings,  slides,  and  seesaws  —  were  erected 
in  a  vacant  lot,  and  the  playground  pronounced 
ready  for  use.  But  the  friction  which  always 
results  from  human  relations  was  not  lacking 
in  this  case :  trouble  followed  the  gathering 
of  so  many  and  so  varied  children  in  one  small 
spot :  the  need  for  a  director  was  immediately 
apparent.  Moreover,  if  the  play  was  to  educate 
as  well  as  to  occupy,  it  must  be  led  into  tlic 
proper  channels.     For  that  play  which  lias  the 


24       THE   COMISIUNITY  THEATRE 

highest  value  for  the  molding  of  the  man  is 
not  the  individual  play  in  a  sand  pile,  but  the 
cooperative  play  of  group  games. 

So  the  playground  has  satisfied  first  the  desire 
to  retrace  in  each  individual  the  history  of  the 
mysterious  race  of  mankind ;  the  little  child 
swings  high  and  low  with  an  exultation  which 
he  does  not  ask  to  understand,  and  dabbles 
in  warm  or  moist  sand,  renewing  some  ancient 
emotional  memory.  Then  he  grows  older.  He 
comes  to  be  aware  of  the  existence  of  his  fellows, 
he  is  taught  loyalty  and  team  play,  the  value 
of  sacrifice  to  the  whole,  of  which  he  is  a  part. 
Friendship  and  loyalty,  obedience  to  rules, 
and  the  qualities  of  leadership  are  thus 
developed.  The  intellect  enters  the  play- 
ground, whereupon  play  touches  aesthetics, 
and  a  new  element  is  introduced. 

It  was  not  long  after  the  founding  of  the  first 
playgrounds  that  the  builders  thought  it  wise 
to  make  them  as  agreeable  to  the  eye  as 
possible.  It  may  have  been  that  the  folk  dances 
were  made  part  of  the  programme  for  the 
sake  of  the  girls,  but  it  seems  more  likely 
that    they    developed    naturally    from    singing 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND   PAGEANTS    25 

and  dancing  games,  dear  to  childhood  since  the 
beginning  of  time.  Rhythm  is  an  important 
factor  in  play.  "Dressing-up",  even  in  a 
kerchief  and  apron,  is  fun.  The  dance  can  be 
exhibited  to  parents  at  the  end  of  the  season, 
reacting  pleasantly  on  the  life  of  the  play- 
ground, as  well  as  on  the  child,  by  linking  it 
with  the  home  interests.  Dances  are  at  first 
isolated ;  then  they  are  strung  together  in  groups, 
in  order  that  they  may  have  coherence  for  their 
final  performance.  Have  we  not  thus  prepared 
the  way  for  the  more  complex  arts  of  the 
theatre  ? 

The  playground  originated  for  the  purpose 
of  furthering  physical  health ;  but  not  long 
after  it  was  discovered  that  physical  and 
mental  well-l)eing  cannot  be  separated.  From 
disorganized  material,  the  iron  swings  made  of 
gas-pipe  and  a  teeter  with  one  vacant  end  high 
in  the  air,  there  has  been  a  steady  growth  to 
the  May  party  whose  chanting  chorus  merrily 
salutes  a  flower-bedecked  and  laughing  queen. 
The  child  who  spent  his  playtitne  in  the  sand 
heap  comes  again  to  the  playground  for  diver- 
sion when  he  is  older :    unconsciously  he  slips 


26      THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

from  one  stage  of  development  to  another; 
when  he  outgrows  the  isolated  digging  in  the 
sand  he  joins  group  games,  he  becomes  —  as 
Mr.  Joseph  Lee  phrases  it  —  "an  Injun" 
following  the  leader  of  the  team ;  he  submits 
to  discipline  until  he  is  a  trained  member  of 
the  playground  community.  Upon  reaching 
this  more  purely  mental  point,  he  realizes 
that  he  is  no  longer  a  child  but  that  under  the 
veil  of  a  cultivated  taste  has  retained  all  the 
child's  desire  to  play.  He  wishes  an  in- 
tellectual and  emotional  outlet  in  his  playtime, 
a  demand  which  has  been  answered  in  many 
playgrounds  over  the  country  by  the  establish- 
ment of  an  annual  pageant  in  which  old  and 
young  take  part. 

The  pageant  is  the  most  flexible  form  of 
dramatic  expression.  It  is  a  loose-jointed 
member  of  the  Theatre  Family,  and  an  adept 
at  contortions.  Since  Mr.  Louis  Parker's  re- 
vival of  the  form  in  England,  it  has  been 
customary  to  make  the  pageant  round  the 
history  of  some  locality,  conferring  a  measure 
of  coherence  upon  the  whole  by  devices  like 
the  chorus  of  monks  who  chanted  at  intervals 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND  PAGEANTS    27 

during  the  Pageant  of  Saint  Albans.  It  will 
be  understood  that  this  flexible  formula  bends 
comfortably  to  the  needs  of  the  playground 
director.  Holidays  local  or  national  may  be 
made  memorable  by  its  adoption :  Indepen- 
dence Day  or  the  birthday  of  Daniel  Boone 
may  be  made  real  to  the  children.  High 
lights  appear  upon  the  solid  color  of  the  rou- 
tine ;  children  and  parents  are  interested ;  the 
whole  is  knit  together  into  a  new  vitality. 

Apart  from  the  playground,  the  pageant  has 
had  a  great  development  in  America,  but 
before  tracing  that  growth  in  any  detail,  let 
us  look  at  certain  other  indications  of  the  same 
spirit.  There  are  village  celebrations  on  the 
Fourth  of  July,  with  a  common  set  of  fireworks 
and  diversions.  I  have  heard  a  whole  village 
sing  familiar  hymns  in  the  town  hall  on  a 
summer  Sunday  in  a  little  Maine  town :  I 
have  joined  the  crowd  round  Mr.  Harry  Earn- 
hardt and  lifted  my  voice  with  the  others  who 
a  moment  before  were,  like  me,  mere  passers- 
by.  During  the  last  decade  many  towns  have 
adopted  the  practice  of  lighting  a  Christmas 
tree  out  of  doors  in  some  conspicuous  place. 


28      THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

No  one  who  has  wandered  up  Beacon  Hill 
from  the  crowded  Church  of  the  Advent,  to 
listen  again  to  the  clear  voices  of  the  carollers 
outside  Saint  Margaret's,  will  ever  forget  the 
joy  of  the  soft  snow  under  his  feet,  and  the 
tingle  of  the  Christmas  air.  The  illuminated 
windows  of  every  house  on  the  hill  are  a  spoken 
welcome.  And  when,  after  lustily  singing  on 
the  Common  round  the  blazing  tree,  the  friendly 
crowd  pauses  to  hear  trumpeters  announcing 
Christmas  Day  from  the  porch  of  Saint  Paul's 
Cathedral,  the  feeling  of  community  enjoy- 
ment is  complete.  In  New  York,  the  Christmas 
tree  in  Madison  Square  was  accompanied,  in 
1915,  by  the  performance  of  a  Christmas 
pantomime  (of  which  pictures  are  given  in 
these  pages)  by  Mr.  Stewart  Walker's  Port- 
manteau Theatre,  erected  there  for  that  pur- 
pose. The  five  thousand  spectators  stood  as 
entranced  in  the  snow  as  if  they  had  been  sitting 
in  the  luxury  of  an  enticing  Little  Theatre ! 

But  because  of  its  peculiarly  adaptable 
nature,  the  pageant  has  manifested  more  than 
any  other  phenomena  the  desire  of  the  com- 
munity   for    unity    and    expression.     Pageants 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND   PAGEANTS    29 

have  existed  always  :  to  discover  tlie  first  we 
must  pass  into  the  time  when  history  was  un- 
recorded. Any  event  presented  an  excuse. 
During  the  Middle  Ages,  these  spectacles  be- 
came elaborate  and  usual.  The  entry  of 
royalty  into  a  city,  a  birth,  a  christening,  a 
betrothal  or  marriage,  the  return  of  a  vic- 
torious army,  or  the  birthday  of  a  favorite, 
might  be  celebrated  by  the  disporting  of  the 
populace.  In  the  history  of  France  and  of 
England  the  outlines  of  many  colorful  pageants 
are  preserved,  with  plates  representing  the 
richness  of  the  costumes  and  elaborate  de- 
scriptions of  the  gorgeous  trappings.  The 
whole  city,  young,  old,  tradespeople,  nobles, 
and  paupers,  joined  in  these  revels :  the  aim 
was  to  let  every  one  share  the  common  emotion. 
Nor  is  the  aim  of  the  modern  pageant  differ- 
ent, but  it  has  added  a  corollary :  the  new 
pageant  strives  to  unite  the  body  politic  })y 
means  of  the  celebration  of  its  general  joy. 
The  Master  of  the  Revels,  the  Lortl  of  Misrule, 
has  been  superseded  by  a  new  master,  who  with 
the  functions  of  his  forerunner  has  combined 
the  ambition  of  the  statesman.     His  pageant 


30      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

celebrates  a  day  of  public  rejoicing,  fitly  and 
beautifully,  but  at  the  same  time  it  must  quicken 
the  community  consciousness,  it  must  revive 
fellowship  and  the  common  ambitions  of  the 
component   parts. 

The  history  of  the  pageant  as  an  art  form  in 
America  actually  goes  back  to  the  beginnings 
of  the  oldest  colony  :  the  Merry  Mount  Revels 
appeared  in  1627.  But  although  there  were 
sporadic  instances  during  the  first  two  hundred 
years  of  our  growth  (in  the  Revolutionary  War 
British  soldiers  gave  a  pageant  in  Philadelphia), 
the  first  use  of  the  name,  and  the  earliest  cele- 
bration in  the  form  by  which  we  characterize 
our  pageants  was  in  Marietta,  Ohio.  In  1888 
this  romantic  town  was  the  scene  of  a  pageant, 
actually  called  by  the  name,  in  which  incidents 
from  its  own  vivid  history  were  represented. 
However,  the  development  of  the  pageant  did 
not  steadily  follow  the  initiative  of  Marietta. 
It  was  not  until  after  Mr.  Parker's  brilliant 
successes  in  England  —  Sherborne,  Winchester, 
Oxford,  and  Bury  St.  Edmunds  —  that  the 
enthusiasm  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  was 
strong  enough  to  make  pageants  numerous. 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND   PAGEANTS    31 

As  the  number  of  pageants  increased  in  our 
cities,  the  form  became  in  a  measure  locah'zed. 
The  pageants  of  the  revival  of  pageantry,  set 
in  motion  when  Mr.  Parker  in  England  created 
the  Pageant  of  Sherborne,  were,  as  I  have  said, 
loosely  connected  series  of  historical  scenes. 
There  was  usually  some  allegorical  symbolical 
figure  or  chorus  by  which  they  were  joined,  but 
this  device  had  little  value  in  itself.  When, 
on  the  other  hand,  pageantry  became  a 
frequent  adventure  of  the  American  people, 
the  symbolical  element  was  magnified.  In 
Mr.  Parker's  pageants  there  is  a  glorification 
of  the  past :  in  Mr.  MacKaye's  pageant- 
masque  there  is  a  promise  for  the  future  through 
the  reviewing  of  the  past.  No  doubt  the 
Puritan  blood  which  flows  so  strongly  in  the 
veins  of  America  has  some  part  in  this  ten- 
dency :  it  may  also  be  caused  by  the  fact  that 
we  are  accustomed  to  think  of  ourselves  as  a 
nation  with  a  future  rather  than  a  past ;  but 
the  desire  of  the  makers  of  the  new  pageant 
to  knit  the  community  into  a  better  whole  by 
m<'ans  of  it  is  also  a  fundamental  reason. 
Whatever  causes  and  forces  have  contributed 


32      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

to  this  result,  the  symbolical  character  of  the 
American  pageant  is  its  most  vital  factor, 
and  from  the  symbolical  pageant  we  have 
developed  a  new  form,  the  pageant-masque. 

From  the  year  1911,  the  list  of  pageants 
grows  increasingly  varied ;  large  and  small 
towns  vie  for  first  place  in  enthusiasm ;  towns 
and  cities  represented  spread  from  California 
to  Massachusetts :  no  occasion  seems  to  be 
neglected.  The  Peterborough  Pageant  in 
memory  of  Edward  MacDowell,  the  Glouces- 
ter Pageant,  the  Pageant  of  Wisconsin,  the 
Pageant  of  the  Northwest  —  one  treads  upon 
the  heels  of  the  other.  But  the  Municipal 
Pageant  of  St.  Louis  in  1914  has  in  a  measure 
established  a  valuable  precedent,  because  its 
proportions  were  so  huge  and  impressive. 

The  Pageant  and  Masque  of  St.  Louis  has 
been  published,  but  to  the  student  of  the 
sociological  theatre  the  report  of  committees 
compiled  after  the  production  is  even  more 
interesting.  This  brief  pamphlet  is  a  paean  of 
praise.  To  read  it  is  like  listening  to  festival 
music ;  voice  follows  voice  in  lifting  strain 
after  strain  of  joy,  and  the  solos  are  supported 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND   PAGEANTS    33 

by  a  chorus  of  thousands  —  the  citizens  who 
made  the  celebration  a  success.  The  bare 
statement  of  work  accompHshed  is  a  revelation 
of  what  demands  the  venture  made :  no 
channel  of  usefulness  was  left  untapped  :  every 
thread  of  service  was  gladly  woven  into  the 
web.  But  behind  the  setting  down  of  facts 
there  is  the  same  spirit  in  the  reports  made  by 
those  committee  chairmen  that  was  clear  in 
the  reading  of  the  masque  and  the  pageant  ^ 
the  spirit  of  service,  the  spirit  of  fellowship, 
the  spirit  of  brotherhood. 

Other  cities  have  accepted  the  challenge  of 
St.  Louis ;  last  season  New  York,  and  Newark, 
New  Jersey,  made  use  of  the  community 
pageant  and  masque.  Already  the  banner  is 
going  forward.  The  spirit  of  neighborliness 
which  gathered  city  children  into  playgrounds 
has  flourished  there,  and  the  breath  of  brother- 
hood is  blowing  across  the  land. 


CHAPTER  III 

Sociological  Theatre:    Caliban 

Caliban  by  the  Yellow  Sands,  Mr.  MacKaye's 
masque  in  honor  of  the  three  hundredth  anni- 
versary of  the  death  of  William  Shakespeare, 
was  presented  in  the  City  of  New  York  in  1916. 
It  was  far  more  ambitious  than  any  previous 
civic  attempt,  for  New  York  is  of  all  cities  the 
most  complex,  the  most  varied  in  population, 
the  most  volatile :  to  unite  her  shifting  thou- 
sands into  even  a  momentary  unity  seems 
beyond  belief  or  imagination.  But  the  in- 
troduction of  the  new  art  form  to  the  great  city 
was  a  strategical  masterstroke.  In  this  coun- 
try no  work  of  art  may  hope  for  acceptance  as 
long  as  it  lacks  the  stamp  of  metropolitan 
genuineness.  If  New  York  has  seen  it,  the 
others  will  see  it.  Had  New  York  withheld 
her  attention,  no  heights  of  technical  finesse 
could  have  made  up  for  the  loss.     Therefore 

34 


CALIBAN  35 

it  demands  especial  attention  in  the  steady 
advance  of  the  community  theatre. 

But  Caliban  has  other  claims  to  importance 
beside  the  accident  that  New  York  witnessed 
its  birth :  Caliban  is  interesting  in  itself,  as 
an  exponent  of  the  new  form  of  dramatic  ex- 
pression which  Democracy  is  hewing  from  the 
rock  of  her  people.  This  form  is  in  its  infancy. 
We  cannot  say  to  what  lengths  the  pageant- 
masque  may  go.  Caliban  was  groping.  In  the 
art  of  the  theatre  a  new  technique  of  expression 
cannot  be  molded  behind  the  curtains  and 
flashed  upon  the  stage  fully  finished :  to  do 
this  would  be  to  reckon  without  the  audience. 
The  artists  of  the  theatre  must  submit  their 
"rough  drafts"  to  the  good  will  of  the  audience, 
must  watch  the  feelings  of  the  audience  with 
beating  heart,  and  must  remodel  until  the 
summit  of  perfection  is  reached. 

The  great  size  of  the  Shakespeare  masque 
(its  popular  name)  makes  it  unusually  valuable 
as  an  example ;  every  proportion  is  magnified, 
and  its  beauties  and  blemishes  alike  are  more 
clearly  revealed. 

New  York  flung  herself  with  an  enthusiasm 


36      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

ainoiintiiig  {iliiiost  to  passion  into  the  celebrat- 
ing of  Shakespeare's  anniversary.  The  idea 
arose  from  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Drama 
League  of  America,  and  the  local  centre  of  the 
Drama  League  in  New  York  was  responsible 
for  the  appointment  of  a  committee  to  manage 
the  celebration  in  that  city.  With  the  assist- 
ance of  prominent  people  (his  Honor  the  Mayor 
made  it  official),  a  great  campaign  was  started 
to  have  the  three  hundredth  year  since  Shake- 
speare's death  memorable  for  proofs  of  the 
vitality  of  his  work.  His  deathlessness  was 
to  be  attested  by  great  and  small,  professional 
and  amateur  productions  of  his  plays ;  dis- 
cussions of  every  question  connected  with  his 
life  and  writing  were  to  be  encouraged ;  the 
series  of  lectures  and  readings  were  endless. 
Finally,  as  a  climax,  a  great  out-of-door  festival 
was  to  be  given,  celebrating  in  as  fit  a  fashion 
as  possible  the  debt  which  we  owe  through 
life  and  art  to  the  master-dramatist. 

It  was  an  amazing  conception.  And  the 
complexity  of  the  committee's  organization 
is  staggering.  It  far  outreaches  the  work  of 
that    triumphant    pageant    committee    in    St. 


CALIBAN  37 

Louis.  Public  schools,  private  schools, 
churches,  recreatiou  ceutres,  parks,  colleges, 
clubs,  libraries,  and  the  profession  of  the 
theatre  were  enlisted.  The  limits  to  which 
cooperation  can  be  carried  seem  to  have  been 
reached  when  we  hear  of  the  sick  children  in 
Bellevue  Hospital  learning  Ariel's  song  from 
the  Tempest,  and  sitting  propped  against  pillows 
in  their  little  beds  to  sew  a  pasted  Shakespeare 
picture  book ! 

The  final  celebration,  the  culmination  of  all 
these  thousands  of  minor  festivities,  was  to  be 
one  which  united  all  the  arts  of  the  theatre, 
and  it  was  with  this  aim  in  view  that  Mr,  Mac- 
Kay  e  wrote  Caliban  for  the  occasion.  In  order 
to  understand  wherein  the  masque  fell  below 
and  wherein  it  far  surpassed  the  hopes  of  its 
originators,  let  us  look  for  a  moment  at  the 
outline  as  it  was  published  in  the  official  pro- 
gramme. 

De.scriptioii  of  the  Masque 

ACTION 

The  action  takes  f)lace,  symbolically,  on 
three  ])lanes  : 


38      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

[1]  In  the  cave  of  Setebos  [before  and  after 
its  transformation  into  the  theatre  of  Pros- 
peroj ; 

[2]  In  the  mind  of  Prospero  [behind  the 
Cloudy  Curtains  of  the  Inner  Stage] ;    and 

[SJ  On  the  ground-circle  of  "the  Yellow 
Sands"  [the  place  of  historic  time]. 

TIME 

The  Masque  Proper  is  concerned,  symboli- 
cally, with  no  definite  period  of  time,  but  with 
the  waxing  and  waning  of  the  life  of  Dramatic 
Art  from  primitive  barbaric  times  to  the  verge 
of  the  living  present. 

The  interludes  are  concerned  with  ritualistic 
glimpses  of  the  art  of  the  theatre  during  three 
historical  periods:  [1]  Antiquity,  [2] the  Middle 
Ages,  and  [3]  Elizabethan  England. 

The  Epilogue  is  concerned  with  the  creative 
forces  of  dramatic  art  from  antiquity  to  the 
present,  and  —  by  suggestion  —  with  the 
future  of  those  forces. 

SETTING 

The  setting  of  the  Masque  is  not  a  back- 
ground of  natural  landscape  as  in  the  case  of 
most  outdoor  pageants,  but  is  architectural 
and  scenic.  Being  constructed  technically  for 
performance  on  a  large  scale,  by  night  only, 
its  basic  appeals  are  to  the  eye,  through  expert 
illusions  of  light  and  darkness,  architectural 
and  plastic  line,  the  dance,  color,  and  pageantry 


CALIBAN  39 

of  group  movements ;  to  the  ear,  through  in- 
visible choirs,  orchestral  and  instrumental 
music. 

The  Masque  Proper  is  enacted  by  profes- 
sional actors,  who,  by  their  speech,  give  the 
motives  of  the  large  scale  pantomime  in  the 
Interludes. 

The  Interludes  unfold  the  theme  in  dances, 
pageantry,  choruses  and  pantomime,  by  hun- 
dreds of  community  performers.  In  the 
Epilogue  the  professional  actors  and  the 
numerous  community  performers  unite. 

Corresponding  to  this  Inner  Structure  is 
the  Outer  Structure,  which  consists  of  three 
stages  : 

[1]  A  modified  form  of  Elizabethan  stage, 
here  called  the  Middle  Stage,  which  is  a  raised 
platform,  and  to  which  steps  lead  from  the 
Ground  Circle. 

[2]  The  Inner  Stage,  shut  off  from  the 
Middle  Stage  by  Cloudy  Curtains,  which, 
when  drawn,  reveal  the  Inner  Shakespearean 
Scenes  conceived  in  the  mind  of  Prospero. 

[3]  The  Ground  Circle,  between  the  Middle 
Stage  and  the  Audience,  resembling  in  form  the 
"Orchestra"  of  a  Greek  theatre. 

Beneath  the  Middle  Stage,  and  between  the 
Steps  which  lead  up  to  it  from  the  Ground 
Circle,  is  situated,  at  centre,  the  mouth  of 
Caliban's  cell,  which  thus  opens  directly  upon 
the  Yellow  Sands. 

All  of  these  features  of  the  setting,  however, 
are  invisible  when  the  Masque  begins,  and  are 


40      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

only   revealed   as   the   lightings   of   the   action 
disclose  them. 

Synopsis  of  Masque 

GENERAL   THEME 

The  four  principal  characters  of  the  Masque, 
Caliban,  Ariel,  Miranda,  and  Prospero,  are 
derived  from  those  of  Shakespeare's  play  "The 
Tempest."  Through  these  characters  the 
general  theme  is  developed. 

The  theme  of  the  Masque  is  the  slow  edu- 
cation of  mankind  through  the  influences  of 
cooperative  art,  that  is,  of  the  theatre  in  its 
full  social  scope. 

This  theme  of  cooperation  is  expressed 
earliest  in  the  Masque  through  the  lyric  of 
Ariel's   spirits, 

"Come  unto  these  Yellow  Sands 
And  then  take  hands." 

It  is  sounded  with  central  stress,  in  the 
chorus  of  peace,  when  the  Kings  clasp  hands 
on  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold ;  and  with 
final  emphasis  in  the  gathering  together  of  the 
creative  forces  of  dramatic  art  in  the  Epilogue 
and  the  final  speech  of  Caliban  to  the  spirit 
of  Shakespeare. 

Space  in  which  to  trace  the  many  incidents 
of  the  action  fails  in  so  brief  a  review;  the 
reader  who  wishes  to  follow  the  education  of 


CALIBAN  41 

the  brute  may  seek  the  published  version  of 
the  masque.  It  will  well  repay  his  attention. 
There  is  in  the  reading  a  unity  of  effect  which 
was  lost  in  the  huge  proportions  of  the  pro- 
duction :  the  reader  becomes  Caliban,  learning 
from  the  colorful  pageant  of  the  author's 
imaging  how,  throughout  ages  of  time,  the  arts 
of  the  theatre  have  shown  that  man  is  spirit. 
"We  are  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  on  — " 
The  education  of  mankind,  in  Mr,  MacKaye's 
conception,  is  twofold,  consisting  both  in  the 
inspiration  which  comes  through  the  minds 
of  poets  and  dreamer-artists,  and  in  growth 
under  the  action  of  cooperation.  Caliban,  the 
brute  part  of  man,  is  taught  by  the  spirit  which 
is  the  servant  of  the  artist ;  he  sees  a  vision,  he 
strives  to  realize  what  he  sees,  and  then  again 
is  shown  another  vision,  rousing  him  to  new 
effort  and  new  achievement.  So  far  all  is 
clear:  the  scenes  from  Shakespeare,  illustrat- 
ing the  flashes  of  vision  through  the  artist, 
were  conjured  up  for  Caliban  and,  one  after 
the  other,  showed  a  definite  effect  upon  him ; 
the  pageant  of  history,  passing  in  Ihe  great 
central    ring    of    the   amphitheatre  —  the   arts 


42      THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

of  the  theatre  in  the  broad  sense  including 
song  and  dance  —  swept  by  to  show  how  men 
had  played  together.  Caliban  crept  on  his 
belly,  then  stood  totteringly  erect,  and  learned 
to  walk  like  a  man :  Lust,  War,  and  Death 
were  overcome  one  by  one,  and  Time  rose  to 
promise  more  than  had  been  accomplished. 
But  in  spite  of  the  beauty  and  the  grandeur 
of  the  production,  as  it  was  given  in  the  circle 
of  the  Stadium  of  the  College  of  the  City  of 
New  York,  I  found  it  not  as  satisfying  as  the 
reading  had  been,  and  far  less  complete  than 
the  jumbled  rehearsal  which  it  had  been  my 
privilege  to  witness  several  nights  before  the 
first  performance. 

The  causes  of  this  imperfection  are  so  closely 
associated  with  the  audience,  and  are  so  im- 
portant in  a  social  as  well  as  an  artistic  sense, 
that,  far  from  being  out  of  place  in  the  dis- 
cussion, they  are  necessary  to  our  argument. 
For  instance,  the  great  audience  was  in  itself 
a  keen  disappointment.  It  lacked  the  con- 
centration and  coherence  which  is  the  most 
impressive  quality  in  a  crowd  which  fills  a 
great  stadium  for  a  football  game :    it  was  ill 


CALIBAN  43 

at  ease,  nervous,  restless,  self-conscious,  curious, 
thoughtless,  and  diffuse.  Only  a  small  frac- 
tion of  the  thousands  who  flocked  into  the 
oval  of  seats  had  even  seen  a  stadium  filled 
with  people :  the-  vastness  of  the  assembly, 
the  amazing  rapidity  with  which  things  hap- 
pened, the  mysterious  sensation  of  listening 
to  voices  which  came  from  a  block  away  — 
all  these  new  experiences  created  a  strangeness 
which  called  for  some  great  unifying  emotion 
to  weld  the  thousand  wandering  minds  into 
one  mind.  One  such  moment  did  come  near 
the  middle  of  the  action,  a  moment  which 
stood  out  above  all  others  as  the  fiery  cross, 
which  symbolized  it,  flamed  out  above  every 
other  scenic  effect. 

Caliban,  from  howling  brutishly  on  his 
belly,  had  been  raised  to  the  dignity  of  wearing 
the  trappings  of  art,  through  the  teaching  of 
his  master.  Full  of  confidence,  he  grasped  the 
magic  wand,  himself  to  conjure  up  a  vision. 
At  first  he  was  successful ;  then,  moved  by  the 
vision  of  Brutus  to  a  memory  of  what  he  had 
seen  in  the  revels  of  Caligula,  he  lifted  his 
wand  and  voice,  and  brutish  once  more,  sum- 


44      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

moned  the  forces  of  Lust,  the  servant  of  his 
ancient  god  and  father.  They  flocked  in  from 
the  shadows  where  the  old  god's  priests  were 
hirking,  up  from  the  grass  and  from  the  golden 
sands  of  Time,  and  overran  the  masque  stage, 
the  Temple  of  Art,  in  a  glorious  sordid  rush. 
The  defenders  of  art  crouched  helpless  against 
the  pillars  of  the  defiled  temple ;  it  seemed  that 
the  Spirit  of  Beauty,  the  daughter  of  the  artist, 
would  be  torn  from  her  shrine  and  defiled. 
Then,  to  the  sound  of  trumpets  triumphant, 
flashed  against  the  sky  the  Cross,  and  in  the 
inner  stage,  where  things  of  the  mind  were 
revealed,  appeared  the  vision  of  Saint  Agnes 
and  her  lamb,  and  A  Shepherd,  who  proved 
to  be  the  Master- Artist  himself. 

It  was  a  great  moment ;  without  exception 
opinion  has  judged  it  the  greatest,  I  think. 
The  reason  is  fundamental  and  of  the  most 
vital  importance.  At  this  instant  there  was 
one  centre  of  action,  not  three,  as  there  were 
even  when  only  one  centre  of  action  was  being 
used,  and  the  movement  shifted  among  them. 
For  the  most  part,  the  spoken  word  of  the 
masque  was  concentrated  upon  the  great  masque 


CALIBAN  45 

stage,  the  pageant  of  Time  swept  by  in  the 
great  yellow  circle,  and  the  flashes  of  Shake- 
speare were  shown  by  the  opening  of  curtains 
at  the  very  back  of  all.  But,  at  the  point  of 
which  I  speak,  the  vision  of  the  artist  stirred 
the  brute  to  action;  he  in  turn  roused  the  mob 
into  actual  participation  in  the  masque-move- 
ment, destructive  but  still  action  —  to  be 
stilled  once  more  by  the  flash  of  an  inspira- 
tion, pictured  in  the  area  sacred  to  mind.  And 
this  clash,  bringing  the  most  unified  and  the 
most  emotional  moment  of  the  masque,  gave 
the  audience  its  biggest  thrill,  a  fact  which 
points  clearly  to  the  one  weakness  of  the 
conception  and  stage  management. 

The  whole  fundamental  idea  in  Caliban, 
just  like  the  fundamental  conception  of  a 
community  theatre,  is  the  value  in  education 
and  growth,  not  only  of  seeing,  but  of  feeling 
and  of  doing.  Mankind,  stirred  by  imagina- 
tion through  the  inspiration  of  a  seer,  acts,  and 
so  learns.  So  Caliban  should  not  merely  have 
watched  the  pageant  of  Time,  as  it  passed 
before  him,  at  the  word  of  the  artist.  The 
visions  of  the  artist  were  the  flashes  of  spirit 


46      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

which  reached  even  his  sordidiiess,  but  the 
action  on  the  sands  of  time  —  the  Egyptians 
writhing  in  rehgious  ecstasy,  the  Greeks  re- 
joicing in  the  joy  of  perfect  physical  beauty, 
and  the  Romans  flinging  the  pearls  of  art 
before  the  swine  of  low  desires,  all  these  were 
not  pictures  thrown  upon  a  screen  for  Caliban 
to  watch.  They  were  Caliban.  Caliban,  wor- 
shiping the  gods  of  ancient  Egypt  with  dance 
and  rhythmic  motion,  Caliban  reaching  sum- 
mits of  art,  but  with  his  feet  still  the  feet  of  a 
monster,  and  finally,  Caliban  succumbing  to 
the  old  monstrous  strength  and  weakness. 
We  could  have  wished  to  see  him  thus  clothed 
in  the  garments  of  Time,  and  "taking  hands, 
upon  these  yellow  sands."  In  this  way  the 
continuity,  which  is  so  evident  in  reading  Mr. 
MacKaye's  play,  would  have  been  apparent 
in  the  mammoth  production. 

Curiously  enough,  the  rehearsal  —  dis- 
jointed, disorganized,  fragmentary,  and  un- 
finished —  gave  a  feeling  of  unity  that  the 
performance  failed  to  give.  The  memory  of 
it  will  linger  long  in  my  mind  as  the  exponent 
of  the  Masque  Idea. 


CALIBAN  47 

Dusk  was  falling  over  the  Stadium  of  the 
College  of  the  City  of  New  York.  The  horse- 
shoe of  seats,  curiously  knit  together  of  wood 
and  cement,  was  empty,  suggesting  for  the 
moment  some  dream  of  antiquity,  some  reminis- 
cence of  the  Roman  amphitheatre  awaiting  the 
spectacle  of  lions  or  of  gladiators.  From  the 
flat  end,  where  a  stage  had  been  built,  the 
hoarse  shouts  of  the  master-carpenter  rose 
over  the  hollow  beats  of  a  hammer.  The 
great  face  of  Setebos,  a  painted  horror,  still 
wet,  grinned  up  at  groups  of  boys  and  girls 
who  began  to  straggle  in  through  the  narrow 
stage  entrances  to  the  grass  ring  in  the  centre. 
Over  in  one  corner  an  energetic  game  of  base 
ball  proved  that  this  was  not  the  Roman 
Empire,  but  the  United  States  of  America. 

Behind  the  stage  there  was  bustle,  but  little 
confusion.  Tickets  were  given  out  by  assist- 
ants, and  a  line  had  formed  before  a  window 
marked  "Costumes",  while  in  the  dressing- 
rooms  activity  was  beginning,  and  the  First 
Aid  tent  awaited  patronage. 

With  the  coming  of  darkness  the  continually 
augmented  groups  were  drawn  into  a  solid  whole. 


48      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

Each  group  formed  a  quiet  audience  to  the  per- 
formances of  the  others,  waiting  with  extraor- 
dinary patience  for  the  call  which  mobilized 
their  "turn."  The  services  of  the  brisk  ushers 
were  rarely  needed  to  quiet  disturbance  or 
to  hush  talking.  Through  a  megaphone  the 
director  from  a  platform  encouraged,  ha- 
rangued, and  exhorted  the  hundreds  of  actors 
who  were  taking  part  in  the  interludes. 

A  rehearsal,  even  a  complete  rehearsal,  is 
curiously  lacking  in  proportion  and  in  emphasis. 
But  here  was  a  rehearsal  only  half  costumed,  in 
which  episodes  followed  each  other  without 
attempt  at  logic.  Now  youths  in  Greek  tunics 
swept  across  the  field,  half  revealed  in  the  dim 
light,  swaying  and  moving  like  some  animation 
of  an  old  frieze.  They  were  followed,  in 
comical  contrast,  by  a  man  in  a  well-cut  over- 
coat and  derby  hat,  who  rode  in  a  chariot  of 
exotic  design,  drawn  by  half-naked  slaves, 
and  balancing  across  his  knee  a  Roman  dancing 
maiden  whose  companions  ran  after  the  pro- 
cession with  little  cries.  Then,  with  a  sudden 
change,  they  were  gone,  and  the  field  was 
flooded     with     new     figures.       They     moved 


CALIBAN  49 

steadily,  slowly,  with  increasing  precision  to 
the  jigging  strains  of  the  Tides  well  Morris 
Dance :  they  came  on  and  on  until  there 
seemed  to  be  no  end.  These  were  Shake- 
speare's own  merrymakers,  come  to  set  up  the 
Maypole  of  Jollity  on  the  shores  of  our  Puritan 
land.  And,  as  if  recognizing  their  importance, 
the  quiet  watchers  in  the  shadows  burst  into 
applause  wdiich  echoed  through  the  spaces  of 
the  great  stadium  like  a  prophecy. 

Meanwhile,  —  unaware  of  the  presence  of  any 
one  else,  —  the  persons  of  the  masque  proper 
were  busy  with  their  lines  and  action  upon 
the  nearly  finished  stage.  Over  the  whole, 
the  electrician  sent  flashes  of  magical  light,  and 
the  chorus,  invisible  above  the  stage,  some- 
times accompanied  the  action,  and  some- 
times  wandered  away  at  its  own  sweet   will. 

From  every  reasonable  point  of  view,  the 
effect  should  have  been  a  hodgepodge.  And  to 
the  tired  workers  who  had  been  struggling  so 
long  to  make  a  colierent  whole,  it  no  doubt 
seemed  a  nightmare.  For  weeks  many  of 
them  had  sacrificed  their  evenings,  coming  to 
rehearsals    under    difficulties,    and    returning 


50      THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

wearily  to  beds  from  which  the  ordinary  busi- 
ness of  the  day  would  call  them  promptly  the 
next  morning.  The  work  was  done  not  easily, 
but  with  an  effort,  and  because  of  the  sacrifice 
and  difficulty  which  they  represented,  the 
pictures  were  strung  one  after  the  other  upon  the 
spirit  of  fellowship  as  beads  hang  upon  a  silken 
thread.  Underneath  and  through  the  medley 
throbbed  the  inspiration  of  a  great  cooperative 
feeling. 

.  There  was  a  friendly  neighborliness  about  the 
entire  gathering  which  seemed  as  out  of  place 
in  New  York  as,  a  baby  carriage  in  Times 
Square.  Nothing  pleasant  and  friendly  was 
surprising.  A  slim  lady  in  Egyptian  draperies 
was  accosted  in  the  shadowy  region  behind  the 
scenes  by  an  Elizabethan  maiden  who  proved 
to  be  a  college  classmate.  Not  even  the  slight- 
est greeting  passed  between  them,  merely  a 
brisk,  casual  question  and  answer.  "Oh, 
Ann,"  cried  the  newcomer,  "have  you  seen 
Marjorie  Trump?"  "Not  since  Class  day!" 
was  the  calm  reply.  "I  am  sorry."  And 
the  Egyptian  lady  passed  into  her  dress- 
ing room  without  realizing  that  it  had  been 


CALIBAN  51 

an  equal  length  of  time  since  she  greeted  her 
questioner ! 

Even  more  unusual  perhaps  was  the  country- 
town  joviahty  which  prevailed  among  the 
audience.  Those  thousands  had  a  genuine  in- 
terest, and  a  curiosity  which  was  far  from  idle. 
The  friendly  flock  on  the  Broadway  car  which 
carried  me  northward  might  have  been  migrat- 
ing toward  the  circus  on  an  annual  outing. 
They  were  chatty.  They  laughed  at  the  lack 
of  seats,  even  at  the  lack  of  standing  room. 
Every  one  felt  that  this  was  a  holiday,  for  his 
neighbor  as  well  as  for  himself.  But  chief  of 
them  all  was  the  genial  conductor.  He  begged 
the  packed  passengers  to  "step  up  forward", 
with  patently  false  promises  of  "more  room  up 
front."  lie  argued  that  by  stepping  forward 
they  would  be  that  much  nearer  "  the  show." 
He  crowded  in  dozens  where  there  should  have 
been  two  or  three ;  he  threatened,  coaxed, 
and  wheedled  until  the  car  was  shaken  with 
quick  ripples  of  laughter.  At  every  stop  he 
called  with  genial  deference  to  warn  a  crushed 
little  woman  huddled  against  the  door,  "Are 
ye    ready,    lady    dear?"    in   order    that    she 


5^2      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

niiglit  not  drop  out  as  the  door  opened.  In 
leaving,  I  expressed  the  desire  that  the  conductor 
might  be  going  with  us  all.  He  shook  his  gray 
head  vigorously.  "Sure,"  he  answered  blithely, 
with  a  smile  which  would  have  delighted  the 
organizers  of  the  masque  could  they  have  seen 
it,  "who  would  bring  them  all  up  here,  if  I  went 
gallivantin'?" 

Then  too,  the  bus  which  carried  me  away  from 
the  spectacle  was  filled  with  people  who  were 
talking  of  Caliban.  Some  were  pleased,  others 
unmoved,  and  one  or  two  frankly  puzzled;  but 
they  were  all  eager  to  discuss  what  they  had 
seen.  "  Can  you  tell  me  what  it  was  all  about  ?  " 
one  woman  anxiously  asked  me.  I  handed  her 
a  programme  instead  of  answering,  pointing 
to  certain  lines ;  whereupon,  above  the  noise  of 
the  jolting,  she  read  the  synopsis  of  the  action 
aloud,  and  we  all  listened. 

However,  the  faults  of  this  greatest  commu- 
nity festival  which  we  have  attempted  are  less 
important  than  the  promise  which  it  carried  of 
progress  to  better  and  greater  achievement. 
The  technique  of  the  spectacle-drama  will 
change;    the  fundamental  conception  will  not 


CALIBAN  53 

often,  I  think,  be  as  purely  intellectual  as  the  one 
which  was  destined  to  do  honor  to  Shakespeare. 
Thus  the  audience  will  become  accustomed  to 
thinking  of  itself  in  the  large  terms  necessary 
under  the  arch  of  heaven  and  the  stars.  But 
surely  the  drama  of  the  community  will  become 
not  an  occasional  occurrence,  not  a  sporadic 
growth,  but  a  national  institution.  Caliban 
has  opened  the  door  into  an  unexplored  garden, 
rich  with  no  one  knows  what  fruits.  The  com- 
munity masque  is  one  of  the  many  signs  which 
point  indisputably  to  the  establishment  of  a 
community  theatre,  for  the  community  masque 
has  proved  valuable  in  bringing  out  temporarily 
the  qualities  in  the  community  which  we  seek, 
by  means  of  the  community  theatre,  to  establish 
permanently.  The  joy  of  play,  the  joy  of  co- 
operation, the  expression  of  joy  through  art, 
the  pleasure  of  creation,  the  unifying  force  of  a 
common  interest,  all  were  evident  in  the  masque. 
In  a  connnunity  tlieatre  they  would  be  continued 
instead  of  lapsing  at  the  end  of  one  artistic 
blooming.  The  masque  is  the  ai)ple  tree  which 
flowers  in  the  spring;  the  theatre  is  like  the 
orange,  rich  perpetually  in  blooms  and  in  fruit ! 


CHAPTER  IV 

Little  Theatres 

What  is  often  called  "The  Little  Theatre 
Movement"  is  vigorous  in  this  country,  al- 
though it  is  young.  Because  it  covers  a  short 
period  of  time,  and  because  it  is  less  a  definite 
movement  than  a  number  of  sporadic  and  inde- 
pendent protests  against  an  existing  condition 
which  grope  toward  a  common  goal  still  vague 
—  for  all  these  reasons,  generalizations  about 
the  Little  Theatre  are  apt  to  prove  premature 
judgments.  However,  it  may  safely  be  asserted 
that  the  enthusiasm  for  small  theatres  indepen- 
dent of  the  organization  which  we  call  "the  com- 
mercial theatre"  is  like  the  spirit  which  initiates 
the  pageant  and  the  community  masque,  evi- 
dence of  the  awakening  of  the  American  audi- 
ence to  active  participation  in  the  art  of 
the  theatre.  In  certain  places  interest  in 
the   dramatic   expression   of   common   emotion 

54 


LITTLE   THEATRES  55 

has  taken  the  form  of  the  pageant  or  the  pageant- 
masque.  In  others  the  emotion  has  been  con- 
fined to  a  smaller  space  and  fewer  people,  and 
the  results  have  lasted  a  longer  time  by  means 
of  some  locally  organized  theatrical  enterprise. 
Each  is  a  definite  step  toward  the  establishment 
of  the  institution  to  be  the  ultimate  fulfilment 
of  both  desires  —  the  community  theatre. 

To  trace  the  history  of  the  Little  Theatre  from 
its  beginnings  on  the  continent,  fascinating  as 
it  would  be,  is  not  my  purpose  here.  Just  what 
social  and  artistic  influences  have  been  brought 
to  bear  on,  let  us  say,  the  Prairie  Playhouse  of 
Galesburg,  Illinois,  by  such  theatres  as  Antoine's 
and  Reinhardt's,  or  by  the  New  Free  Folk 
Stage  in  Berlin  (to  which  several  managements 
refer  with  admiration)  would  be  an  interesting 
problem,  but  one  which  would  prove,  I  think, 
insoluble.  The  history  of  the  Little  Theatre  is 
unimportant  as  yet ;  we  must  think  of  the 
future  and  the  present  rather  than  of  the  past. 

For  convenience  I  have  placed  in  the  Appen- 
dix a  list  of  the  Little  Theatres  of  America,  It 
is  as  complete  as  possible.  At  this  time  of 
expansion,   the    list    must    necessarily   fail    to 


5G      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

include  some  of  the  newest  ventures ;  no  doubt 
since  the  compilation  fresh  Little  Theatres  have 
come  into  being,  and  it  may  be  that  valuable 
but  unadvertised  efforts  have  escaped  my  no- 
tice. Most  fervently  do  I  hope  so,  for  it  is  from 
these  simple,  unsophisticated  places  that  the 
theatre  will  draw  most  strength.  However, 
such  examples  as  have  come  to  my  hand  fall 
naturally  into  two  classes :  just  as  the  theatre 
has  been  divided  by  the  footlights  into  artists 
and  audience,  so  the  new  theatres  have  had  their 
origin  upon  one  side  or  the  other  of  that  same 
line;  on  the  one  hand  there  are  organizations 
which  owe  their  existence  to  the  inspiration  of 
some  artist,  and  on  the  other  there  are  those 
which  came  from  a  social  need  visualized  by  an 
outstanding  figure  or  figures  in  the  audience  or 
social  body.  These  two  classes  might  be  called 
the  Art  Theatres_and  the  Economic  Theatres  in 
order  that  they  may  be  distinguished. 

Of  the  first  type  I  shall  speak  briefly.  They 
have  been  largely  a  reflection  of  the  new  art  of 
the  theatre  as  it  was  known  in  France,  in  Ger- 
many, and  in  Russia.  They  are  half-measures. 
But  they  are  not  for  that  reason  to  be  in  the  least 


LITTLE   THEATRES  57 

condemned ;  rather  they  are  to  be  encouraged 
and  commended,  not  because  "half-a-loaf  is 
better  than  no  bread ",  but  because  as  half- 
measures  they  are  a  long  step  toward  the  thing 
for  which  we  are  struggHng.  It  is  a  bright 
prognostication  that  when  we  look  for  instances 
of  spontaneous  and  apparently  isolated  attempts 
to  bring  something  fresh  and  lovely  into  the 
theatre,  we  find  many  shrines  with  ardent  wor- 
shippers. There  is  a  Little  Theatre  in  Balti- 
more and  one  in  Los  Angeles ;  Louisville,  Ken- 
tucky, has  one,  and  so  has  a  tiny  settlement  at 
Blue  Hill,  Maine.  As  far  as  it  is  possible  to 
tell,  the  beginnings  have  been  practically  con- 
temporaneous. The  difference  of  a  few  months 
in  the  dates  of  founding  may  be  disregarded. 

But,  in  spite  of  a  class  similarity,  there  is 
great  variety  in  the  details  of  the  organization 
of  these  Little  Theatres.  Many  of  the  asso- 
ciations are  limited  by  the  size  of  their  place  of 
production  to  a  narrow  list  of  subscribers,  who 
make  up  the  small  audience  and  whose  annual 
subscriptions  furnish  funds  for  the  productions. 
Casts  for  such  theatres  seem  usually  to  be  either 
professional  actors  or  talented  amateurs  who 


58      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

come  from  without  as  well  cas  within  the  cor- 
porate body.  Such  a  theatre  was  The  Toy 
of  Boston,  when  it  flourished  in  Mrs.  Gale's 
erstwhile  stable  in  Lime  Street.  The  Vagabond 
Players  suffer  a  similar  limitation  in  their  little 
converted  barroom,  of  which  a  photograph  is 
included  in  this  volume.  If  the  playhouse  holds 
only  sixty-two  persons,  the  clientele  cannot  be 
too  varied ! 

Artistically,  the  very  smallness  of  our  Little 
Playhouses  has  produced  surprisingly  big  re- 
sults. The  Little  Theatres  have  influenced  the 
arts  of  the  theatre  —  the  arts  of  scene-painting 
and  of  acting,  especially  —  much  more  than  we 
realize.  Nothing  could  be  as  convincing  an 
argument  for  simplicitj^  as  the  intimacy  of  a 
tiny  theatre;  the  scene  must  be  cleared  of  too 
much  detail  and  clutter,  and  the  action  must  be 
restrained  and  perfectly  simple.  Mr.  Livingston 
Piatt,  from  The  Toy  Theatre,  Mr.  Raymond 
Johnson,  from  The  Chicago  Little  Theatre,  Mr. 
Frank  Zimmerer,  whose  early  work  was  done  in 
settlement  houses,  are  names  of  weight  even  in 
professional  circles  :  they  have  been  trained  in 
a  hard  school  where  distance  must  be  a  matter 


LITTLE   THEATRES  59 

of  perspective,  illusion,  and  light,  and  they 
learned  to  make  magic  from  that  training. 
Whatever  may  be  said  about  freeing  art  from  the 
bonds  of  convention,  it  is  conceded,  I  believe, 
that  limitations  serve  as  a  goad  to  an  artist  in 
his  apprenticeship.  And  the  narrow  prosce- 
nium, the  lack  of  space,  the  closeness  of  the 
audience,  all  call  for  skill  and  ingenuity  which 
the  harassed  worker  seldom  appreciates  at  the 
moment  of  the  struggle.  The_acting_too  Jia&_ 
been  simplified,  and  the  actor  has  often  been 
given  opportunities  of  experiment  and  variety 
in  his  interpretation  which  the  methods  of  our 
professional  theatre  forbid. 

But  what  was  fortunate  in  the  artistic  light 
has  been  unlucky  from  the  social  angle.  In- 
stead of  social  theatres,  we  have  had  society 
theatres,  a  wholly  different  matter.  Naturally, 
the  fostering  group,  in  many  cases,  has  been  the 
group  which  has  leisure,  and  that  group  is  the 
one  which  is  most  sophisticated,  most  influenced 
by  the  tradition  of  the  old  theatre  and  of  the  old 
world,  the  one  which  has  least  need  of  an  outlet 
for  emotion,  and  which  does  not  suffer  from  the 
lack  of  beauty.     Not  long  ago  in  a  small  city 


GO      THE   COMIVITINITY  THEATRE 

rich  in  tradition  and  in  history,  far  removed 
from  the  centres  of  artistic  Hfe,  and  teeming 
with  youth  and  enthusiasm,  certain  intelHgent 
people  were  discussing  an  entertainment  to  ac- 
company the  municipal  Christmas  tree.  The 
most  eager  of  them  all  —  the  arbiter  eligantia- 
rum  —  shook  her  head  regretfully.  "We  could 
not  do  it,"  she  said,  with  discouragement  in  her 
face  and  voice,  "  it  is  too  difficult  to  persuade  the 
young  people  to  take  part  even  in  a  small 
performance.  If  we  want  financial  support,  we 
must  have  people  in  our  plays  who  can  bring 
their  families,  and  debutantes  have  so  many 
parties  that  they  are  bored  l)y  the  suggestion." 
And  instantly  there  came  to  my  mind  the  story 
told  by  Mrs.  Henniger  of  a  little  girl  who  was 
backward  in  her  class  at  school,  shy,  ill  at  ease, 
and  seemingly  stupid,  until  she  was  put  into  a 
cast  of  The  Little  Princess.  There  she  was  one 
of  the  children  at  the  "party."  As  rehearsals 
progressed,  her  shyness  vanished.  The  little 
girls  were  encouraged  to  work  out  each  her  own 
individual  action,  and  the  little  shy  one,  who 
could  not  dance,  wept  bitterly  for  fear  she  might 
be  sent  away.     But  when  she  was  told  that  she 


LITTLE   THEATRES  61 

could  think  of  something  to  do  herself,  her  little 
brain  scurried  about,  and  she  triumphantly 
suggested  that  she  might  turn  the  leaves  of  the 
music  for  the  girl  who  played  the  piano!  The 
fact  that  she  was  "promoted"  that  term  in 
school  may  not  have  helped  the  door  receipts  of 
The  Little  Princess,  but  it  certainly  had  a  value. 
And  what  a  contrast  she  offers  to  the  debu- 
tantes who  are  so  busy  with  parties  that  they 
have  no  time  for  a  thing  of  beauty  !  Surely  there 
is  no  limitation  so  rigid  and  unyielding  as  the 
barrier  set  up  by  "Society."  To  make  the 
Little  Theatre  unfailingly  useful,  it  must  be 
freed  from  that  bond. 

Another  type  of  the  Art  Little  Theatre  which 
has  contributed  not  a  little  to  our  art  of  the 
theatre  is  that  which  is  subsidized  by  a  patron, 
such  as  The  Los  Angeles  Little  Theatre,  and 
The  Lake  Forest  Players,  and  several  tiny  sum- 
mer theatres  in  the  villages  of  New  England. 
Most  of  these  have  a  purely  local  importance,  I 
think,  and  thejefore  do  not  call  for  especial  at- 
tention here.  But  one  which  flourishes  under 
a  benevolent  despotism  has  made  itself  so 
noticed  that  we  must  pause  and  examine  it  in 


62      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

some  detail  —  I  mean  The  Neighborhood  Play- 
house in  New  York. 

The  Neighborhood  Playhouse,  in  a  city  full 
of  theatres,  far  away  in  a  quiet  corner,  on  the 
pitiful,  promise-blessed  East  Side  of  the  great 
city,  has  made  more  than  one  commercial  pro- 
ducer squirm  under  the  glare  of  his  spotlight. 
Unlike  many  or  most  of  the  Little  Theatres  in 
our  country,  it  has  a  deep  root  in  so  funda- 
mental a  thing  as  race :  in  its  purely  neighbor- 
hood manifestation,  it  gives  exquisite  expression 
to  the  beauty  sleeping  in  the  mind  of  the  long 
silenced  Jewish  people.  The  neighborhood  of 
which  the  theatre  is  the  mouthpiece  is  the 
crowded  and  stifled  one  which  huddles  round  the 
Nurses'  Settlement  in  Henry  Street.  For  years 
the  work  in  dramatic  classes  has  been  laying  a 
foundation  upon  which  the  beauty  of  The 
Neighborhood  Playhouse  has  been  based.  The 
art  classes,  the  sewing  classes,  and  other 
branches  of  the  Settlement  have  made  con- 
tributions. The  generous  founders  are  young 
women  who  give  not  only  a  liberal  endowment 
of  money  but  of  taste  and  imagination  as  well, 
besides  strenuous,  continued,  mental  and  physi- 


LITTLE   THEATRES  63 

cal  labor.  They  desire  ardently  that  the  theatre 
express  all  that  is  fine  in  the  ancient  and  modern 
life  of  the  people.  Beautiful  old  Jewish  rituals 
have  been  revived,  bright  with  color  and  swing- 
ing with  the  joyful  motion  of  the  East,  to  take 
a  place  beside  much  that  is  excellent  in  modern 
dramatic  writing.  An  occasional  play  has  been 
given  in  Yiddish.  The  settings  are  unfailingly 
interesting  and  often  very  beautiful.  The 
personnel  of  the  cast  is  prevailingly  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  although  top  hats  do  appear  there, 
the  audience  is  chiefly  drawn  from  the  Lower 
East  Side. 

A  performance  in  The  Neighborhood  Play- 
house is  never  stupid  to  the  student.  It  may 
be  an  interesting  experiment,  and  often  it  is 
an  achievement  of  definite  artistic  value.  But 
the  general  policy  of  the  playhouse  is  the  Settle- 
ment policy.  Unusual  artistic  fare  is  provided 
for  the  community  under  the  leadership  of 
women  of  high  ideals,  but  that  fare  is,  after  all, 
given.  The  underlying  spirit  of  the  place  is  a 
benevolent  one  :  the  people  work  together,  they 
give  expression  to  emotions  of  their  race,  but 
they  are  never  free.     It  may  be  that  the  need. 


64      THE   COIVIMUNITY  THEATRE 

in  the  situation  in  which  The  Neighborhood 
Playhouse  finds  itself,  is  for  such  an  educational 
and  protective  organization.  The  young  people 
of  Grand  Street  are  part  of  New  York,  and  many 
of  them  are  totally  unfit  for  the  life  of  that  city. 
It  is  not  my  intention  to  criticize  the  evident 
good  which  has  been  accomplished  by  Settlements 
in  great  cities,  but  their  policy  is  acknowledged 
to  be  one  of  expediency.  They  are  the  First 
Aid  class  of  Social  Science.  They  put  the  in- 
jured member  into  a  splint,  but  do  not  set  it. 
After  the  First  Aider  must  come  one  who  will 
make  it  possible  for  Nature  to  finish  the  work 
of  healing !  So  the  force  of  humanity  is  always 
making  achievement,  under  the  guidance  of 
some  great  constructor  who  leads  without  di- 
recting. To  return  to  our  special  instance, 
The  Neighborhood  Theatre  will  realize  the  ideal 
of  a  community  theatre  only  when  it  becomes 
a  self-governing  body.  Until  that  time  it  may 
do  excellent  work,  but  it  is  not  providing  for  its 
own  future.  And  although  this  change  would 
mean  a  temporary  lowering  of  the  artistic  level 
which  it  undoubtedly  has  set  for  itself,  it  would 
substitute  an  ever  broadening  horizon. 


LITTLE   THEATRES  65 

Still  a  third  division  are  those  theatres  which 
have  taken  impetus  from  the  success  in  England 
and  on  the  Continent,  of  playhouses  with  a 
municipal  endowment.  At  Northampton  one 
has  continued  for  several  years  to  furnish  en- 
tertainment for  the  undergraduates  and  faculty 
of  Smith  College  as  well  as  for  the  inhabitants 
of  the  Massachusetts  manufacturing  town  :  and 
in  Pittsfield  another  with  a  similar  endowment 
—  the  shares  are  owned  by  wealthy  citizens  — 
is  equally  successful.  These  theatres  are,  of 
course,  professional,  and  they  take  their  key- 
note from  Broadway,  slightly  tinged  with  popu- 
lar intellectualism.  They  often  do  good  work, 
and  express  in  a  certain  measure  the  tastes  of 
the  audience,  but  they  are  not  the  possession  of 
the  audience  as  the  community  theatre  should 
be  the  possession  of  the  community. 

Several  attemi)ts  have  been  made  to  establish 
repertory  theatres  in  this  country.  The  New 
Theatre  in  New  York  combined  with  a  repertory 
idea  the  general  aim  of  the  theatre  of  the  com- 
munity magnified  to  national  terms.  The  ex- 
plosion of  the  notion  that  a  national  theatre 
could  be  superimposed,   which  came  with  the 


06      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

failure  of  The  New  Theatre,  was  the  contribu- 
tion of  that  organization  to  the  history  of  the 
theatre.  Later,  in  Boston,  a  repertory  attempt 
was  made  under  the  title  of  the  Henry  Jewett 
Players,  but  the  organization  as  it  now  exists 
is  on  the  basis  of  a  stock  rather  than  of  a  reper- 
tory company.  Finally,  in  New  York  once 
more.  Miss  Grace  George  made  a  considerable 
degree  of  success  with  one  season  of  repertory 
at  The  Playhouse  in  Forty-eighth  Street,  and  it 
is  to  be  regretted  that  it  has  not  been  continued. 
But  the  repertory  theatre  —  whatever  oppor- 
tunities it  may  offer  to  artists  of  the  theatre  — ■ 
is  not  the  final  goal  when  it  is  unconnected  with 
the  community.  And  the  municipal  theatre, 
financed  by  a  few  shareholders  for  the  benefit  of 
a  town  or  city,  is  not  completely  enough  of  the 
community  to  satisfy  the  most  pressing  demands. 
Here  and  there  are  theatres  which  call  them- 
selves experimental.  One  of  the  earliest  of  these 
was  Professor  Baker's  "47  Workshop"  which  — 
taking  its  numerical  name  from  "English  47, — 
Technique  of  the  Drama",  as  listed  in  the 
catalogue  of  Harvard  University  —  was  es- 
tablished   to    provide    a    dramatic    laboratory 


LITTLE   THEATRES  67 

for  the  students  of  Professor  Baker's  well- 
known  course.  There  in  the  insufficient  theatre 
of  Radcliffe  College,  the  plays  which  are  being 
written  under  Professor  Baker's  guidance  are 
given  a  hearing  to  an  audience  composed  of  in- 
terested people  whose  written  criticisms  are  a 
valuable  part  of  the  routine.  Here  everything 
is  for  the  benefit  of  the  author,  or,  as  Professor 
Baker  himself  writes:  "What  I  should  like  to 
have  particularly  emphasized  is  that  the  47 
Workshop  is  not  simply  a  place  for  the  trying- 
out  of  our  plays,  but  that  it  is  a  place  where 
anybody  who  has  anything  to  offer  in  the 
theatrical  arts  may  have  a  hearing.  We  have 
at  present  new  and  promising  people  at  work 
on  theatrical  design  and  costumes,  training  in 
acting,  and  in  all  the  departments  behind  the 
curtain.  We  have  recently  established  a  Book- 
shop on  the  evenings  of  the  performances,  at 
which  any  published  plays  of  the  Harvard 
Dramatic  Club  or  the  47  Workshop  maybe  had." 
This  workshop  idea  of  Professor  Baker's  has 
been  developed  by  one  of  his  pupils  in  a  most  in- 
teresting way  at  the  University  of  North  Dakota. 
Professor  Frederick  Koch  went  out  from  Har- 


68      THE   COMMUNITY   THEATRE 

vard  to  a  field  which  is  infinitely  riclier  in  dra- 
matic promise  because  it  is  nearer  to  a  simple 
and  unsophisticated  manner  of  living,  and  he  has 
with  great  wisdom  clung  as  closely  as  he  has 
been  able  to  the  life  of  his  prairie  workmen.  So 
vigorous  is  the  work  of  the  Sock  and  Buskin 
Society  upon  which  the  producing  of  plays  falls, 
that  Professor  Koch  is  able  to  write,  "  In  these 
few  years  it  has  been  demonstrated  to  us  that 
practically  the  first  generation  of  Americans 
from  the  soil,  from  our  prairie  pioneers,  can 
translate  its  own  thrilling  life  into  new  dramatic 
and  literary  forms  —  convincing  and  beautiful, 
and  promising  much  toward  a  genuinely  native 
art  yet  to  come." 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  of  all  Professor 
Koch's  innovations,  however,  are  the  coopera- 
tive pageants  which  he  has  produced  upon  his 
lovely  outdoor  stage.  These  were  the  work  not 
of  one  man  but  of  a  class  of  twenty,  working 
in  close  and  eager  consultation,  and  yet  they 
read  most  convincingly.  The  celebration  of 
the  Shakespeare  Tercentenary  was  the  occasion 
for  a  pageant-masque  in  which  the  Master 
Playwright  was  shown  influenced  by  the  strange 


LITTLE   THEATRES  69 

news  of  far-away  America,  thus  tying  North 
Dakota  to  the  days  of  good  Queen  Bess  —  as 
was  fitting  and  proper.  Here  is  a  community 
laboratory  :  here  is  a  lesson  for  universities,  and 
a  great  lesson  for  the  community  theatre  when  it 
shall  find  itself  in  action. 

The  West,  because  it  lacks  so  many  posses- 
sions of  the  East,  is  bound  to  have  many  things 
for  which  the  East  may  not  hope.  A  rural 
theatre  is  one  of  these,  where  plays  are  produced 
for  the  country  folk,  and  which  is  in  a  measure 
a  strolling  players'  group.  This  too  is  in  North 
Dakota,  and  it  is  under  the  management  of  Mr. 
Arvold  and  the  Agricultural  College  in  Fargo. 
I  shall  say  more  of  the  universities  of  the  West 
in  a  future  chapter. 

The  rural  theatre,  rich  with  promise  of  joy 
and  life  for  the  isolated  farm  dweller,  brings  me 
naturally  in  my  review  of  the  many  Little 
Theatres  to  Tlie  Portmanteau  Theatre  of  Stuart 
Walker.  Here  is  a  true  revival  of  the  strolling 
{)layers  !  Mr.  Walker's  stage  packs  up  in  boxes, 
and  his  lovely  scenes  and  magic  lighting  are  sent 
about  I  he  country,  if  not  by  parcel  post,  by  a 
nieihod  as  expeditious.     It  is  a  new  form  of 


70      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

theatre  which  had  its  origin  strictly  within  the 
professional  theatre,  for  Mr.  Walker  had  a  long 
training  under  as  conservative  a  master  as  Mr. 
Belasco,  but  it  has  in  its  fresh  youth  and  en- 
thusiasm little  of  the  faults  of  the  theatrical 
profession  as  we  know  it  to-day.  And  although 
it  is  far  removed  from  any  community  —  it  is 
the  "Theatre  without  a  home"  always  "on  the 
branch"  —  it  has  a  very  poignant  message  for 
the  community  theatre. 

First  of  all,  The  Portmanteau  Theatre  has 
shown  what  can  be  done  with  little  money  and 
some  care  and  brain — as  no  other  one  theatrical 
enterprise  has  done.  And  in  the  second  place 
it  has  cut  loose  from  much  of  the  paraphernalia 
which  has  been  considered  an  integral  part  of 
theatrical  production,  and  has  made  the  simple 
playing  of  delightful  plays  as  possible  in  a  barn 
as  on  Broadway.  Just  what  the  ultimate  de- 
velopment of  Mr.  Walker's  invention  may  be  it 
is  not  possible  to  say,  but  when  the  community 
theatre  becomes  a  reality  it  will  undoubtedly 
find  The  Portmanteau  Theatre  —  or  theatres  — 
its  close  ally. 

In    the    brief    examination    given    the    Art 


I'licit)  !).■•■  Willie  Sliirliii.      f'iiiirlc>y  (if  I'ort  iii.Hilcaii  'I'licalrf. 

(;ammi;i{  (.i  urox's  nkkdlk 

'I'lic  \  i^ror  :iiiil  \il;ilit.\'  of  t  lir  cild  cDiiH'ii.x'  ciniihasizril  I)y  I  he  w  liiinsv   of  I  lie  set . 


LITTLE   THEATRES  71 

Theatres,  one  or  two  instances  have  been 
touched  upon  which  might  well  come  under  the 
Economic  Theatre  as  well.  The  Neighborhood 
Playhouse  is  one  of  these,  and  Professor  Freder- 
ick Koch's  Laboratory  in  the  Bankside  Theatre 
at  the  University  of  North  Dakota  is  another. 
There  are  many  settlement  houses  where  the 
Dramatic  Club  might  well  be  given  the  dignity 
of  the  title  Theatre,  but  they  are  too  numerous 
to  require  more  than  mention  as  a  class.  One  of 
them,  the  Hull  House  organization,  which  grew 
up  from  Miss  Addams'  inspiration  at  Oberam- 
mergau,  stands  out  above  the  others  because 
of  its  age  and  its  achievement ;  it  has  had  the 
honor  of  producing  for  the  first  time  many  plays 
of  a  serious,  and  more  especially,  of  a  sociological 
nature  —  Galsworthy's  Justice  was  one. 


CHAPTER   V 

Democratic  Institutions 

The  nature  of  democracy  makes  it  very  diffi- 
cult to  judge  the  institutions  of  democracy, 
and  to  allot  to  each  the  measure  of  praise  or  of 
blame  which  is  its  due.  Other  forms  of  na- 
tional organization  have  an  immediate  attain- 
ment which  constitutes  success,  and  without 
it  they  are  failures.  It  is  simple,  in  history,  to 
trace  the  criterion  by  which  to  judge  monarchies 
and  empires.  The  essence  of  kingship  has  never 
been  more  perfectly  phrased  than  in  the  famous 
words  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth  when  he  said, 
"L'etat  c'est  moi."  And  when  the  State  ceases 
to  exist  primarily  for  the  king,  as  soon  as  the 
divine  right  to  rule  becomes  a  matter  for  ques- 
tion —  at  that  moment  monarchy  begins  to 
fail.  So,  in  an  empire,  if  the  sovereignty  of  the 
empire  state  is  diminished,  if  the  States  become 
equal  in  power,  the  empire  ceases.     And  all  in- 

72 


DEMOCRATIC   INSTITUTIONS      73 

stitutions  of  a  monarchy  which  do  not  support 
and  pander  to  the  power  of  the  king  are  failures, 
just  as  imperial  institutions  are  failures  when 
they  do  not  support  the  central  sovereign  State. 
But  the  institutions  of  democracy  present  a 
less  simple  problem. 

Democracy  is  a  dynamic  condition.  Democ- 
racy cannot  be  static.  The  very  ideal  of  de- 
mocracy implies  a  goal  and  a  progress  as  well : 
democracy  is  the  growth  and  the  ever-vanishing 
attainment.  What  democracy  means  we  cannot 
tell :  we  see  only  something  toward  which  we 
must  strive  with  the  utmost  zeal. 

What,  then,  is  a  democratic  institution? 
How  is  it  to  be  tested  .^^  In  a  bureaucracy, 
which  presents  the  most  natural  contrast  to  a 
democratic  form  of  government,  the  aim  is  effi- 
ciency, the  precise  smoothness  of  a  well- 
fashioned  machine.  Are  we  to  apply  this 
standard  to  the  institutions  of  democracy?  It 
is  done  again  and  again,  but  are  those  critics 
who  expect  a  mechanically  perfect  operation 
the  wisest  ?  Are  they  not  thoughtless  when 
they  say  that  our  org.'inization  is  too  cumber- 
some, our  public  schools  ill-managed,  that  there 


74      THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

is  waste  of  public  moneys  in  the  administration 
of  the  town  and  state,  that  good  men  avoid 
pohtics,  and  that  offices  are  filled  with  rascals 
under  a  system  depending  upon  the  mass  of  the 
people  ?  Is  it  not  evident  that  such  criticisms, 
no  matter  how  true  they  may  be,  are  not  funda- 
mentally a  criticism  of  democracy  or  of  demo- 
cratic institutions  ? 

When  we  speak  of  democracy  we  speak  in 
terms  of  the  spirit,  whereas  when  we  put  our 
ideals  into  action  we  are  forced  to  employ  the 
means  of  mind  and  of  body.  Let  us  look  for  a 
moment  at  the  old  bromide  of  democratic  phi- 
losophy —  "All  men  are  created  free  and  ec[ual.'* 
How  many  times  during  the  long  march  of 
human  progress  has  that  pillar  of  fire  blazed  in 
hope  against  the  clouds  of  tyranny?  We  are 
accustomed  to  think  of  it  as  having  its  origin 
with  Christianity;  but  the  earliest  barriers 
were  down  even  before  that  time,  and  century 
by  century  the  circle  has  widened,  including 
more  and  more  of  humanity.  Yet  now,  perhaps 
more  than  ever  before,  the  differences  in  mental 
and  moral  as  well  as  physical  equipment  are 
evident.     Shall  we,  then,  in  spite  of  the  varying 


X.     — 


DEMOCRATIC   INSTITUTIONS     75 

heritage,  continue  to  believe  that  there  is  any 
equality  upon  earth?  Yes,  "all  men  are 
created  free  and  equal"  is  none  the  less  true  be- 
cause of  the  manifest  inequalities  in  mankind's 
physical,  mental,  and  material  birthright.  For 
freedom  and  equality  are  of  the  spirit,  from 
which  democracy  seeks  to  remove  the  handicap 
by  equalizing  opportunity  of  mind  and  of  body, 
since  spirit  is  so  closely  wrapped  in  its  garment 
of  environment. 

Democracy  seeks  to  equalize  opportunity. 
Opportunity  —  there  is  undoubtedly  the  key- 
note of  democracy.  Its  institutions  must  be 
weiglied  not  for  what  they  are  actually  achieving 
alone,  but  for  what  they  offer  to  those  whom 
they  influence.  They  must  carry  within  them- 
selves the  seed  of  their  own  perpetuation  and 
perfection.  A  democratic  institution  is  more 
than  an  organization  to  meet  certain  ends,  to 
solve  certain  immediate  problems ;  it  is  the  solu- 
tion of  tliose  problems  through  the  extent  of  the 
future  as  well.  It  must  have  not  only  efficiency, 
but  tlie  power  to  grow,  and  if  one  element  is 
to  be  in  c^xcess  of  the  other,  the  power  to  grow 
is  more  imperative. 


76      THE   COMMUNTTY  THEATRE 

In  a  certain  city  there  arose  not  long  ago  the 
need  for  a  revision  of  the  civic  affairs.  Several 
new  plans  were  proposed,  of  which  two  seemed 
to  be  more  practical  than  any  others ;  namely, 
that  a  commission  should  be  chosen  to  control 
the  city,  or  that  it  should  be  given  into  the  hands 
of  an  efficiency  expert,  a  business  manager. 
Both  these  plans  have  been  adopted  by  other 
cities ;  there  was  nothing  in  either  suggestion 
which  was  revolutionary.  And  yet  that  city 
disposed  of  each  in  turn  for  equally  sound 
reasons.  They  argued  that  what  a  city  needs, 
what  a  city  must  have  in  order  to  be  well  gov- 
erned, is  not  a  capable  business  man,  nor  yet  a 
board  of  three  capable  business  men  in  author- 
ity, but  good  citizens.  The  city  manager  may 
do  well  this  year  and  next  year,  but  what  if  the 
citizens,  either  from  lack  of  interest  cr  from  ac- 
tual evil  intent,  choose  for  that  position  a  bad 
man  ?  Will  the  situation  not  be  greatly  aggra- 
vated ?  An  absolute  —  or  even  a  powerful  — 
authority,  if  it  be  wrong,  has  unlimited  force. 
And  if  the  citizens  are  not  all  keenly  alive  to 
their  responsibilities,  the  power  so  delegated  is 
bound  to  come  finally  into  evil  hands.     Thus 


DEMOCRATIC   INSTITUTIONS     77 

the  city  decided  that  a  popular  representative 
form  of  city  government,  closely  responsible  to 
the  citizens,  was  what  they  wanted,  and  instead 
of  changing  their  form  of  administration,  they 
set  out  upon  a  campaign  of  stirring  the  citizens 
to  interest  and  action.  The  results  have  not 
been  startling,  but  the  city  is  growing  more 
promising  every  day. 

Democracy  has  always  seemed  to  me  like  a 
giant  statue  in  the  sculptor's  atelier.  We  have 
the  sculptor,  his  material  and  his  idea,  and  in 
a  work  of  art  the  three  are  separate.  But  in 
the  democracy  they  are  the  same.  The  idea 
exists,  clear  as  long  as  it  can  be  limited,  possible 
to  perfect  in  miniature,  but  having,  as  a  part  of 
its  greatness,  vast  proportions  and  an  heroic  cast. 
The  perfect  State  could  be  made  by  the  assem- 
bling of  certain  limited  people  together,  perhaps 
—  if  they  were  the  right  people;  and  yet,  when 
the  attempt  has  been  made,  it  has  always  proved 
that  the  very  limitation  injured  the  perfection 
of  the  ideal.  The  material  of  which  the  State 
must  be  formed  is  the  people.  They  are  un- 
trained. They  need  purification.  And  the 
workman,  the  artist,  he  is  represented  by  the 


78      THE   COMIMUNITY  THEATRE 

people,  untrained  and  groping,  gaining  a  tech- 
nique and  a  surety  as  he  labors,  growing  as  the 
work  grows  in  beauty  and  in  power.  The  very 
conception,  the  very  thought  of  perfection  will 
be  at  first  as  vague  and  indifferent  as  the  out- 
lines of  the  statue  when  the  artist  first  takes  his 
tool  in  hand,  but  as  the  work  progresses  and  the 
workman  grows,  the  conception  will  gain  in 
beauty. 

If  we  are  willing  to  concede  that  democracy 
seeks  to  give  an  equal  opportunity  for  growth 
to  all  of  its  citizens,  it  makes  the  testing  of 
democratic  institutions  less  complex.  The  final 
analysis  must  prove  whether  or  not  they  permit 
the  greatest  freedom  of  the  individual  without 
limiting  the  freedom  of  the  whole  and  the 
growth  of  the  institution.  The  public  schools, 
which  I  have  mentioned  so  often,  are  a  case  in 
point.  They  offer  an  education  to  every  child ; 
they  do  not  offer  a  perfect  education  because  we 
have  not  yet  discovered  a  perfect  one,  but  there 
are  no  limits  set  beyond  which  an  individual  may 
not  go,  and  the  schools  carry,  in  their  universal 
opportunity,  the  possibility  of  attaining  unknown 
heights.      The  schools  are  open  to  every  child. 


DEMOCRATIC   INSTITUTIONS      79 

The  same  intellectual  fare  is  set  before  all  the 
children.  And  no  boy  or  girl  is  hindered  from 
becoming  the  future  master  of  that  school,  to 
carry  on  its  ideals  and  teaching  in  a  new  genera- 
tion. This  fact,  taken  in  addition  to  the  con- 
tinual, eager,  and  scorching  criticism  of  educators, 
is  the  most  encouraging  thing  about  our  system 
of  education.  It  is  alive,  it  is  vital,  it  is  a  part 
of  the  life  of  all  the  people ;  in  a  word,  it  is  grow- 
ing into  an  expression  of  an  ideal. 

Why  should  we  not  have  a  national  laboratory 
of  democracy,  where,  under  conditions  as  nearly 
ideal  as  possible,  experiments  in  the  technique  of 
democracy  might  be  made  ?  Indeed  there  exist 
already  limited  communities  where  useful  tests 
might  be  made,  and  where,'unless  I  am  mistaken, 
unconscious  experimentation  is  carried  on.  I 
mean  the  universities  and  especially  those  of  the 
West,  which  are  less  influenced  by  the  tradition 
of  learning  inherited  from  Europe  than  are  the 
older  Eastern  ones.  In  a  college  we  have  a  com- 
munity from  which  the  great  chasms  have  been 
removed.  The  citizenry  of  this  community  is 
standardized  l)y  means  of  physical  and  mental 
examination,  and  by  tlie  fact  that  the  struggle 


80       THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

for  existence  is  removed  from  within  the  college 
walls.  Here  is  a  group  of  people  set  above  the 
currents  of  thought  which  influence  the  world, 
similarly  endowed  in  most  matters,  and  yet  as 
varied  as  humanity  will  be  wherever  it  is  found. 
Surely  here  new  forms  of  cooperation  might  be 
given  trial,  and  no  doubt  might  be  invented. 

Student  government  is  the  rule  rather  than  the 
exception  at  the  present  time  in  colleges.  For 
the  most  part,  this  term  applies  to  a  policing  of 
the  college  community.  Self-restraint  is  sub- 
stituted for  rule  from  above  and  is  much  more 
successful.  Curiously  enough,  it  has  also  been 
found  a  more  stringent  regime  than  the  old  one. 
And  certain  educators  have  gone  so  far  as  to 
express  the  wish  that  the  student  body  may 
soon  be  given  a  voice  and  a  responsibility  in  the 
management  of  affairs  now  considered  the 
metier  of  the  faculty  and  overseers. 

I  remember  an  incident,  related  I  think  by 
Mr.  Lincoln  Steffens,  in  an  article  I  read  in  my 
college  days,  which  indicates  the  effect  of  such  an 
innovation.  (I  trust  I  do  not  distort  the  ac- 
count, which  I  am  unable  to  verify.)  Some 
eager  American  students  at  an  Old  World  uni- 


2  «H 


y.  ^ 


DEMOCRATIC   INSTITUTIONS      81 

versity  found  themselves  listening  to  dry-as- 
dust  lectures.  The  professors  meandered  at 
will  over  unimportant  historical  facts,  instead  of 
speaking  practically  and  succinctly :  men  who 
had  made  great  contributions  to  the  science 
and  thought  of  their  subjects  never  came  to 
them  because  of  their  slovenly  methods.  The 
indignant  enthusiasts  organized  a  new  set  of 
classes  outside  university  control.  They  spoke 
harshly  to  the  poor  Herr  Doktor.  They  per- 
mitted him  no  fooling  and  if  he  chanced  to  be 
late  to  a  lecture  they  took  him  to  task.  The 
classes  were  a  success.  Who  knows  what  the 
casual  undergraduate  might  not  accomplish 
under  the  prick  of  responsibility  ? 

*'Why,"  cries  a  much-loved  professor  in  my 
own  university,  "  why  do  they  speak  of  'interests 
and  activities'  in  contrast  with  studies  which 
we  all  know  are  neither  interesting  nor  active? 
Tell  me  why  ! "  It  is  evident  that  were  "  inter- 
ests and  activities"  assigned  by  the  paternal 
benevolence  of  an  ancient  curriculum,  they  too 
might  become  sluggish  and  perfunctory. 

Athletics  used  to  unify  colleges ;  but  during 
the  past  decade  the  forces  of  the  theatre  —  usu- 


82      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

ally  called  dramatics  —  have  been  gaining  favor. 
The  instance  of  Professor  Koch's  department 
in  the  University  of  North  Dakota  is  only  one : 
varied  arc  the  rumors  of  remarkable  work 
which  college  undergraduates  are  doing.  The 
Stadium  at  Harvard  was  new  when  it  was  used 
for  the  setting  of  Joan  of  Arc;  the  Yale  Bowl 
was  scarcely  finished  when  it  was  utilized  for 
Mr.  Granville  Barker's  Greek  revival,  and  for 
the  dramatic  celebration  of  a  university  holiday ; 
and  we  have  already  reviewed  at  some  length 
the  use  to  which  the  College  of  the  City  of  New 
York  put  its  stadium  in  the  production  of  Cali- 
ban. There  is  indication  of  the  trend  in  the  con- 
version of  the  vast  monuments  to  athletics  for 
the  purposes  of  drama,  but  beside  this  fact 
smaller  units  have  also  been  making  an  impres- 
sion on  the  world  at  large.  The  type  of  college 
dramatic  club  has  changed,  and  in  place  of  vapid 
imitations  of  what  is  worst  on  Broadway,  we 
have  interesting  and  valuable  work  set  before 
us  in  the  Yale  Dramatic  Club,  at  Harvard 
University  and  at  Dartmouth  College. 

A  canvass  of  our  colleges  might  prove  rich  in 
discoveries  for  the  benefit  of  democracy  and  of 


DEINIOCRATIC   INSTITUTIONS      83 

art.  There  in  list  exist,  unsung  without  the  col- 
lege walls,  coin[)lete  organisms  which  have 
grown  up  with  the  college  coniniimity  and 
which  have  the  beauty  of  a  natural  growth. 
Such  is  the  college  theatre  which  it  has  been  my 
privilege  to  know  intimately,  and  from  which, 
because  of  my  association  with  it,  I  have  drawn 
much  of  my  data. 

All  this  discussion  of  college  atliletics  and 
dramatics  is  not  malapropos.  If  we  are  to  look 
to  the  universities  as  to  the  experimenting 
ground  of  democracy,  it  will  be  well  to  consider 
in  detail  the  institutions  which  we  find  there. 
And  we  shall  apply  to  those  institutions  the 
test  which  we  apply  to  all  the  institutions  of 
democracy  :  we  shall  ask  whether  they  fulfill  the 
great  democratic  demands.  Have  they  within 
themselves  the  power  to  perpetuate  themselves 
and  in  that  perpetuation  to  become  more 
perfect  ? 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  College  Theatre 

In  sketching  plans  for  a  community  theatre 
I  have  made  continual  reference  to  my  ex- 
perience in  the  Idler  Club  of  Radcliffe  College. 
This  dramatic  club  might  well  be  put  under 
the  head  "Little  Theatre",  since  it  fulfills  a 
social  need.  But  the  community  is  the  limited 
community  of  a  college,  and  therefore  the 
theatre  stands  as  the  result  of  laboratory 
experimentation  from  which  we  may  draw 
conclusions  to  be  applied  to  new  conditions 
with  care.  The  unusual  degree  of  excellence, 
and  the  intimate  response  of  processes  to  the 
existing  needs  are  due  to  the  fact  that  the  theatri- 
cal organ  is  not  one  which  was  applied  to  an 
already  matured  group,  but  that  it  grew  with 
the  college  from  small  beginnings. 

When  a  group  of  women  came  together  in 
Cambridge    to    study    under    the   direction   of 

84 


A   COLLEGE   THEATRE  85 

Harvard's  professors,  they  came  under  much 
protest  and  opposition.  Their  common  en- 
tliusiasm  so  removed  tliem  from  ordinary  facts 
of  hfe  that  they  wanted  nothing  beyond  a  con- 
secration to  learning.  But  the  attitude  toward 
women  in  an  old  university  relaxed,  and  year 
by  year  younger  women  joined  the  ranks,  until 
the  social  atmosphere  became  more  normal. 
The  desire  for  a  bond  arose,  and  its  earliest 
satisfaction  was  a  series  of  informal  meetings 
where  a  few  of  the  number  presented  pro- 
grammes of  music,  dance,  tableaux,  or  scenes 
from  Shakespeare.  It  is  interesting  to  notice 
that  these  women  turned  naturally  to  the  same 
mode  of  entertainment  and  expression  which 
has  been  customary  in  every  kind  of  social 
group. 

The  efforts  were  successful.  Gradually  these 
periodic  assemblies  for  common  anmsement 
assumed  the  mon^  formal  lines  of  a  club.  As 
the  college  gnnv,  those  ]3hases  of  the  meetings 
which  w(M'e  not  directly  asso('iat(Hl  with  the 
arts  of  th(>  theatre  wore  dropped.  With  in- 
creasing fr(>fpi('TK'y,  tlie  Idler  jii'odiiced  y)lays. 

But  all!ion<i'li    tlie  aii'nnentation   of  the  stu- 


8C      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

dent  body  had  crystallized  the  social  unit  into 
the  Idler  Club,  and  had  assumed  the  tradition 
that  a  play  occupy  the  bi-weekly  meetings, 
there  was  no  revolutionary  change  in  the 
membership.  Eligibility  remained  as  wide  as 
the  college  gates.  Any  student  at  RadcliflFe 
may  be  a  member  of  the  Idler  Club  by  paying 
her  tax  of  one  dollar  a  year;  she  cannot  be 
otherwise  disqualified.  The  college  enrollment 
passed  the  six  hundred  mark  some  time  ago, 
but  the  breadth  of  this  policy  is  unchangingly 
successful.  And  whatever  other  interests 
have  been  added  to  the  fullness  of  the  under- 
graduate life,  there  is  still  nothing  which  at- 
tempts to  supplant  the  universal  function  of 
the  dramatic  club. 

Here  near  at  hand,  is  a  miniature  community 
which  has  fostered  the  germ  of  civic  unity,  and 
produced  a  theatre  expressing  the  will  of  the 
community  itself.  If  I  may  be  pardoned  a 
paratlox,  here  is  a  theatre  truly  universal 
within  its  own  limits.  One  may  say  that  what 
takes  place  behind  the  walls  of  a  woman's 
college  is  not  of  vital  importance ;  and  it  is 
true  that  the  achievements  of  this  theatre  have 


A   COLLEGE   THEATRE  87 

not  startled  the  world.  We  must  always  re- 
member that  this  is  an  experiment  in  the 
laboratory.  The  fact  that  an  apple  fell  upon 
Sir  Isaac  Newton's  nose  —  to  refer  to  an  old 
story  —  was  not  important  except  to  Sir  Isaac ; 
and  yet  it  would  not  be  possible  to  set  down 
in  this  brief  space  what  the  world  might  have 
lost  had  the  falling  of  that  apple  meant  noth- 
ing to  the  scientist  beyond  the  injured  mem- 
ber. In  the  case  of  the  Idler  Club,  I  do  not 
find  its  productions  notable,  any  more  than  I 
find  the  undergraduate  work  in  other  depart- 
ments remarkable.  But  the  form  of  organi- 
zation is  imperatively  suggestive.  In  the  col- 
lege theatre  we  may  watch  certain  elements 
at  work,  just  as  in  the  laboratory  we  watch 
the  interaction  of  chemicals  in  a  glass.  And 
the  results,  scientifically  applied  to  life,  will 
give  us  a  solution  of  great  problems. 

In  watching  the  action  of  the  chemicals  in 
our  glass,  several  points  must  be  kept  firmly 
in  mind.  We  are  looking  for  the  coml^ination 
of  elements  which  shall  simultaneously  satisfy 
the  social  scientist  and  the  artist  of  the  theatre. 
The  first,  it  will  be  remembered,  demands  an 


88      THE   COIMMUNITY  THEATRE 

institution  which  shall  unify  the  community, 
providing  that  common  interest  which  is  to 
supplant  common  ancestry  and  a  common  re- 
ligious belief.  Wliile  the  artist  demands  that 
the  arts  of  the  theatre  flourish  like  the  green 
bay  tree :  he  clamors  for  an  audience  filled 
with  interest  and  intelligence,  nourishing  these 
arts  as  they  have  never  been  nourished,  warm- 
ing them  with  the  sunlight  of  their  favor  and 
spurring  them  to  growth  by  the  dampening  of 
their  criticism.  Can  it  be  possible  that  the 
little  crucible  of  a  woman's  college  can  contain 
elements  so  puissant  .f^ 

Writing  in  1911,  while  still  an  undergraduate, 
the  present  author  spoke  as  follows  of  the 
Idler  Club,  — 

The  Club  occupies  a  unique  position  among 
the  dramatic  clubs  of  women's  colleges.  It 
binds  the  college  together  in  a  social  sense.  It 
does  for  Radcliffe  what  dormitory  life,  sorori- 
ties, nnd  athletics  do  for  Smith,  Vassar,  and 
^Yelle.sley.  With  a  carefully  conceived  and 
smoothly  rimning  machinery  which  is  the  de- 
velopment of  years  of  slow  gro^^i:h,  it  is  possible 
to  produce  nine  or  ten  plays  a  year  for  the 
members  of  the  club,  that  is,  for  college  girls 
only;    and  to  manage  as  well  the  execution  of 


A   COLLEGE   THEATRE  89 

several  large  plays  to  which  outsiders  are 
admitted.  This  number  may  seem  large,  but 
it  could  not  be  reduced  without  a  definite  loss. 
If  we  take  away  even  one  meeting,  we  cut  down 
the  proportion  of  the  college  population  which 
now  benefits  by  the  productions.  The  girl  who 
can  bring  tears  to  your  eyes  by  the  pathos  or 
the  fun  of  her  interpretation  of  character,  the 
girl  whose  artistic  sense  finds  expression  in  a 
well-set  stage  and  in  a  charmingly  costumed 
picture,  or  perhaps  the  shy  Freshman  who  needs 
to  work  hard  with  other  people  to  forget  herself 
— one  of  these  will  lose  much  if  a,  single  meeting 
is  omitted.  Statistics  of  conmiittees  show  that 
in  1910,  seventy-eight  girls  were  used  in  execu- 
tive positions  beside  an  equal  number  in  acting. 
In  this  way  girls  who  have  administrative 
ability  are  given  the  same  opportunity  to  con- 
tribute that  is  given  to  those  with  dramatic 
gifts.  Very  often  the  same  girl  will  have  experi- 
ence in  both  branches  of  play-production,  and  so 
learn  to  bear  tenderly  with  a  tired  leading  lady, 
or  to  have  patience  with  an  harassed  costumer. 

In  this  summing  up  of  effects  the  glass  takes 
on  the  color  desired  by  the  social  scientist. 
Here  is  social  unity,  a  bond  provided.  Here  is 
mention  of  the  advantage  to  every  sort  of  citi- 
zen, the  art  citizen,  the  executive  citizen,  and 
the  l)ackward  one  whose  gifts  must  be  found 
and    trained.     Here    is    a    system    where  every 


90       THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

member  of  the  population  is  given  one  chance 
in  the  course  of  his  Hf etime  —  one  official,  active, 
dynamic  chance  —  and  what  more  could  the 
social  scientist  ask  to  see  in  the  cloudy  glass  ? 

Resinning,  the  account  turns  to  the  artist 
and  his  interests,  in  these  words : 

Then  there  is  the  Audience.  For  every  play 
that  she  spends  behind  the  scenes,  the  average 
Radcliffian  spends  twenty  in  the  seats  of  the 
auditorium.  But  has  she  become  bored  when 
her  course  is  over.^^  No,  she  continues  to  sit 
with  unflagging  interest.  Her  attitude  has  been 
a  constantly  changing  one.  In  her  Freshman 
year  she  never  doubted  that  the  wine  was  real ; 
there  was  a  lump  in  her  throat  at  the  sobbing  of 
the  heroine.  As  a  Sophomore  she  took  delight 
in  large  criticisms,  often  wrong,  but  still  based 
upon  thought :  she  was  learning  that  art  is  not 
all  emotion.  By  Junior  year  she  had  reached 
the  "upper-class"  attitude,  and  influenced  by 
her  own  experience,  had  found  an  intelligence  in 
matters  of  technique,  a  keen  critical  faculty  in 
the  judgment  of  plays,  acting,  and  details  of 
stage  setting.  Four  years  of  Idlers  have  taught 
her  something  of  what  is  good  in  acting  and 
what  worth  while  in  drama.  If  she  wishes  to 
work  more  deeply  upon  the  theatre  and  drama, 
there  are  courses  offered  for  her  study  —  plays 
by  college  girls  are  given  a  hearty  welcome,  and 
are  judged  sympathetically  as  candidates  for 
production  —  it    is  not   necessary   to   mention 


A  COLLEGE  THEATRE  91 

that  the  club  gives  unusual  chances  for  the 
actress  to  try  her  powers,  and  for  the  artist  in 
color,  light,  and  line  to  make  experiments. 

And  now  the  glass  has  revealed  the  aims  of 
the  artist  of  the  theatre,  has  shown  us  the 
chance  for  artistic  growth,  and  an  audience 
taking  a  constructive  part  in  the  work  of  a 
theatre.  Does  it  not  seem  as  if  the  means 
which  achieve  such  results  might  repay  study 
sufficiently  to  discover  what  fundamental  rules 
they  follow  ? 

In  later  chapters  I  have  made  use  continually 
of  the  organization  of  the  Idler  Club,  and  so  I 
shall  not  expound  every  minute  cogwheel 
which  goes  to  make  the  mechanism.  It  will 
be  sufficient  to  observe  here  the  great  principles 
upon  which  the  theatre  has  been  erected,  just 
as  when  we  turn  to  a  great  world-illustration 
of  a  community  theatre  we  shall  see  how  those 
same  underlying  forces  have  produced  the  same 
results. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Idler  Club  belongs  to 
the  college.  It  is  the  possession  of  every  mem- 
ber of  the  undergraduate  body.  The  dues  are 
low,  corresponding  exactly  to  a  poll  tax,  cover- 


92      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

ing  necessary  expenses.  There  are  no  added 
expenses,  making  unexpected  demands.  One 
dollar  a  year  covers  the  course  of  all  the  small 
plays. 

The  general  administration  is  conducted 
upon  the  lines  of  popular  representation. 
Every  year  at  the  annual  meeting,  the  Club 
chooses  its  officers  —  president,  vice-president, 
secretary,  and  treasurer.  The  president  and 
secretary  are  from  the  class  which  will  be 
Seniors  during  their  term  of  office,  the  vice- 
president  will  be  a  Junior,  and  the  treasurer  a 
Sophomore.  Just  when  this  tradition  grew  up 
is  not  certain,  but  with  it  came  that  of  progres- 
sion in  office,  which  insures  ability  in  the  presi- 
dent to  cope  with  the  intricacies  of  the  highly 
organized  system  of  which  she  is  to  be  head. 
The  Sophomore  who  is  elected  treasurer  will, 
if  she  prove  satisfactory,  pass  on  to  the  offices 
of  vice-president  and  president  in  the  two  en- 
suing years,  reelected  in  each  case  by  the  vote 
of  all  the  Club. 

These  officers  form  an  Executive  Committee 
whose  duty  it  is  to  control  the  business  and 
social  policy  of  the  Club.     They  are  assisted  by 


A   COLLEGE   THEATRE  93 

numerous  minor  committees,  such  as  the  Cos- 
tume Committee,  Lights  Committee,  Scenery 
Committee,  Ushers  Committee,  which  are  ap- 
pointed by  the  year,  and  many  other  temporary 
ones.  These  committees  are  appointed  with 
great  care,  with  continual  regard  for  the  fact 
that  the  entire  population  of  the  college  must 
be  permitted  to  do  its  part  of  the  work. 

The  art  administration  of  the  Club,  although 
in  some  cases  it  may  prove  to  be  greatly  in- 
fluenced by  an  individual  president,  is  not  in 
the  hands  of  the  elected  officers,  a  point  which 
is  worthy  of  note.  The  Dramatic  Committee, 
whose  duty  it  is  to  choose  plays  and  to  produce 
them  with  suitable  assistance,  is  under  the 
leadership  of  a  chairman,  whose  authority  may 
well  be  said  to  be  the  final  word  in  the  artistic 
locale.  The  president  is  a  member  of  the 
committee  but  not  the  presiding  officer. 

In  the  Dramatic  Committee  every  other 
quality  is  sacrificed  to  artistic  eflficiency. 
From  the  Junior  class  are  chosen  the  two 
most  obviously  gifted  members.  The  first 
year  of  service  will  be  their  appreuiieesliip  for 
the  Senior  season,  when  they  will  control  the 


94      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

policy  of  the  Club,  one  of  them  as  chairman. 
And  every  year  a  third  Senior  member  is 
added,  who  with  the  president  —  member  ex 
officio  —  completes  the  board  of  dramatic 
direction. 

Thus  has  this  women's  club  solved  the  two 
primary  problems  which  confront  democratic 
institutions.  It  has  related  itself  to  the  whole 
on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  to  efficient 
management.  Socially,  politically,  and  artis- 
tically, the  Idler  Club  fulfills  the  needs  of  its 
small  world.  It  is  financially  self-supporting, 
and  more  than  that,  it  makes  every  year  a 
present  of  money  to  the  college.  The  tug  of 
forces  is  the  same  in  this  little  "body  politic" 
as  in  more  chaotic  natural  communities  of  the 
world.  But  before  drawing  any  parallels,  let 
us  turn  our  attention  to  the  outstanding  ex- 
ample of  a  theatre  belonging  solely  to  the  com- 
munity which  has  startled  and  moved  the 
whole  of  civilization. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  World's  Example  of  the  Community 
Theatre 

In  the  mountains  of  Bavaria,  far  in  spirit 
from  the  sophistication  of  cities,  is  a  village 
which  has  given  the  world  its  greatest  dramatic 
expression  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  the 
strongest  evidence  of  what  effect  a  community 
theatre,  in  its  simple,  literal  sense,  would  have 
upon  the  community.  This  is  no  limited  group 
of  people.  This  is  no  brief  experiment.  Here 
is  a  village  like  the  others  in  those  mountains, 
and  here,  over  a  period  covering  not  a  few 
years  but  twelve  generations,  has  existed  a 
community  theatre  in  its  pure  form.  The 
outcome  of  this  long  interaction  is  evident  in 
even  as  superficial  a  survey  as  we  shall  give  it 
here. 

The  tradition  which  has  come  down  to  us 
from  1()'}3  stales  that  in  that  year  a  pestilence 

95 


96       THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

raged  over  the  country  about  Oberammergau. 
The  ghastly  contagion  reached  even  to  the 
viHage,  resulting  in  eighty-four  deaths  from 
among  its  own  ranks.  The  terrified  assembly 
which  gathered  to  discuss  what  must  be  done 
was  closed  by  a  vow  to  God  that  if  He  would 
save  the  town  from  the  disease,  the  released 
would  act  the  story  of  His  Passion  upon  earth, 
in  solemn  joy,  every  ten  years.  From  that 
day  the  plague  ceased  in  Oberammergau. 

Just  what  part  or  parts  the  monks  of  Ettal 
took  in  the  founding  of  the  Passion  Play  is  not 
known ;  they  have  had  a  hand,  it  is  thought, 
in  the  play  as  it  now  exists.  And  the  gradual 
flowering  of  the  production  is  lost  in  the  con- 
fusion of  truth  with  myth.  But  by  the  year 
1870  the  play  was  of  sufficient  import  to  be 
the  ground  upon  which  Joseph  Maier  was 
excused  from  military  service  when  the  Prus- 
sian War  interrupted  the  performances.  Lud- 
wig  the  Second  was  sufficiently  interested  to 
grant  this  immunity  and  to  become  a  patron 
of  the  theatre.  When  peace  came,  the  Passion 
Play  was  given  especially  to  celebrate  the  great 
joy  of  the  community. 


THE   ^YORLD"S   EXAMPLE  97 

The  vehicle  by  which  the  play  is  conveyed 
to  its  audience  has  kept  all  these  years  some- 
thing of  the  simplicity  of  that  now  legendary 
time  when  it  was  produced  in  the  church  and 
the  courtyard.  A  general  committee  of  nine- 
teen men  control  the  entire  preparations,  with 
many  sub-committees  assisting  in  the  manifold 
duties  necessary  to  so  vast  an  undertaking. 
The  general  committee  makes  appointments 
and  chooses  —  a  solemn  matter  —  the  candi- 
dates to  play  each  part!  The  announcement  of 
their  decision  is  accompanied  with  much  sorrow 
and  joy,  for  no  person  in  the  village  is  without 
his  ambition.  Every  girl  has  hoped  to  play 
the  Virgin  Mary  :  one  at  least  has  postponed 
her  marriage  that  she  might  do  so.  And  when 
Anton  Lang  was  told  that  the  Christus  hatl 
fallen  to  him,  he  grew  deathly  pale  before  he 
silently  left  the  room  where  he  had  been  sitting 
with  his  father. 

Since  the  world  has  traced  its  pathway  up 
the  steep  mountain  side  to  the  Passion  Play, 
the  duties,  expenses,  and  difficulties  have  in- 
creased. There  is  a  new  theatre  and  more 
splendid  costumes.     But  these  gorgeous   vest- 


98      THE   COINI^IUNITY  THEATRE 

ments  are  still  made  in  Oberammergau,  the 
actors  have  not  acquired  the  theatrical  device 
of  wigs,  and  the  scenery  is  still  repainted  at 
home.  An  amazing  amount  of  simplicity  is 
retained.  The  villagers  feel  themselves  aloof 
from  the  world.  The  ravages  of  Mammon  have 
been  withstood.  Of  all  the  money  which  pours 
in,  none  is  used  for  any  but  the  best  pur- 
poses :  two-thirds,  after  expenses  are  paid,  is 
divided  among  the  seven  hundred  actors,  in 
proportion  to  the  importance  of  the  class  of 
each;  the  last  third  goes  for  the  good  of  the 
entire  town,  in  1910,  for  example,  to  change  the 
course  of  the  Ammer,  so  that  its  floods  might 
not  threaten  the  town.  It  is  easy  to  see  that 
the  pecuniary  returns  are  not  the  motive  power, 
when  we  learn  that  a  man  who  might  have 
made  a  fortune  as  an  actor  was  paid  £70  as  the 
share  of  the  Christus  in  the  last  performance. 

The  action  of  the  Passion  Play  has  been  too 
often  detailed  to  require  an  account.  The 
world  is  familiar  with  all  the  pageant  from 
the  cannon  which  calls  the  audience  to  Mass  in 
the  early  morning  to  the  chant  of  joy  which 
rises  over  the  Resurrection  and  Ascension,  at 


THE   WORLD'S  EXAMPLE  99 

sundown.  The  procession  of  the  Chorus 
through  the  streets,  the  eight-hour  perform- 
ances, the  rapt  reverence  of  the  audience,  and 
the  joyous  inspiration  of  the  performers,  are 
matters  of  common  comment.  Whatever  the 
play  may  owe  to  its  predecessor,  the  Medieval 
Mystery,  just  how  many  extraneous  events 
have  been  lopped  off  in  the  course  of  its  his- 
tory, it  matters  only  for  our  discussion  that 
the  play  is  a  series  of  events  in  the  life  of 
Christ,  opening  with  the  triumphant  entry 
into  Jerusalem,  and  following  the  gospel  story 
closely.  Between  these  acts  or  scenes  are 
placed  tableaux  from  the  Old  Testament,  pro- 
phetic of  the  Messiah.  And  the  whole  is  ac- 
companied by  a  Chorus  which  sings  incidental 
music,  rarely  beautiful,  not  unlike  the  Greek 
chorus  in  its  function. 

All  this  ritual  is  like  an  echo  in  the  hurried 
modern  world ;  some  lovely  relic  of  fourteenth- 
century  Italy,  washed  high  on  the  mountain 
side  by  the  tide  of  artistic  growth,  and  treasured 
there  in  the  isolation  of  its  hiding  place.  The 
church  in  the  village  has  fostered  the  forms, 
the  music,  the  unsophisticated  religious  beliefs. 


100     THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

And  the  school  has  fed  the  draniatic  progress : 
it  has  i)rcpared  simple  peasants  to  become 
artists.  Passionately  inspired  by  the  legends 
and  ideals  of  Christianity,  they  express  them 
in  work  and  in  living.  The  delicate  wood- 
carving  which  is  still  their  great  industry,  has 
persisted  through  the  invasion  of  the  modern 
tourist.  How  is  it  to  be  explained  ?  Is  this 
community  a  phenomenon  ?  Did  nature  breed 
only  artists  here  ?  Or  can  it  be  that  the  pos- 
session of  a  burning  ideal,  not  individual,  but 
shared  by  every  citizen  alike,  has  transformed 
ordinary  Bavarian  mountaineers  ? 

The  growth,  complex  and  mysterious  in  its 
beauty  as  a  spring  violet,  has  pushed  its  way 
to  perfection  by  processes  as  natural  and  uni- 
versal as  those  through  which  the  violet  passed, 
seeking  the  sun.  Its  roots  deeply  penetrate 
the  foundation  of  religion.  This  is  not  true 
merely  because  the  Passion  Play  is  a  religious 
story :  it  has  been  equally  true  of  every  drama 
which  attained  true  flowering.  Japanese  drama 
originated  in  a  charm  against  Earthquake  and 
his  fearful  power;  the  Persians  based  their 
earliest  plays  upon  religious  stories ;   the  Indian 


THE   WORLD'S  EXAMPLE         101 

drama  came  into  being  when  personages  were 
introduced  into  religious  hymns ;  and  the 
Greek  —  the  joy  and  despair  of  the  world  of 
the  theatre  —  kept  always  in  the  great  moments 
of  the  world's  highest  form  of  drama,  its  early 
intimate  bond  with  religion. 

The  seed  which  was  sown  in  Oberammergau 
was  the  crying  need  of  all  the  community.  A 
common  fear  and  its  resulting  common  joy  have 
bound  the  village  into  a  unity  which  resembles 
the  interdependence  of  an  organism.  What- 
ever crowds  may  flock  to  the  theatre  on  the 
celebration  of  the  festival  every  tenth  year, 
although  they  bring  wealth  to  the  village, 
they  are  not  of  as  much  weight  as  the  little 
circle  made  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  town. 
This  is  the  real  audience,  which  watches  the 
careful,  prayerful  preparation  of  the  play  from 
day  to  day,  whose  highest  conception  of  earthly 
honor  is  the  assumption  of  the  role  of  the 
Christ,  and  who,  wlx'n  asked  to  take  their 
play  traveling,  replic^l  that  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  take  as  well  the  whole  village,  and  the 
Kofd  which  guards  from  y(\ar  to  year  both 
village    and    theatre.     Here    is    perfect    unity 


102    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

between  players  and  audience  —  there  are  no 
footlights  to  be  crossed  in  Oberammergau ! 
The  artists  and  the  Hsteners  mingle  and  are 
lost  one  in  the  other,  in  a  perfection  of 
cooperation. 

In  this  way  the  Passion  Play  and  its  attend- 
ant secular  performances  have  come  to  be  the 
centre  of  the  life  in  Oberammergau.  They 
form  the  stem  from  which  spring  all  other 
activities.  Carving,  toy-making,  and  the  task 
of  the  herdsman  continue;  but  it  is  the  group 
occupation  which  furnishes  the  chief  interest 
of  the  villagers.  The  attainment  of  eminence 
in  the  Passion  Play  is  their  highest  goal ;  the 
most  rigid  punishment  for  an  evildoer  is  the 
expulsion  from  the  common  work  in  it. 

FrSulein  Mayer  —  the  Mary  Magdalen  of  the 
last  performance  —  speaks  with  Oberammergau's 
own  voice  of  what  the  Passion  Play  means  to 
her  people.     In   a   recent   letter  she  writes  : 

I  am  seriously  interested  in  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing the  dramatic  art  introduced  into  country 
communities.  It  is  no  doubt  a  great  educa- 
tional factor,  it  binds  its  members  in  a  closer 
union ;  it  is  an  ideal  to  which  each  and  every 
one  can  devote  heart  and  soul.     Of  course  it  is 


THE   WORLD'S  EXAMPLE         103 

the  individual  that  has  to  act  Hke  a  stimulant 
and  set  ambition,  love,  and  enthusiasm  on 
fire,  for  without  those  three  forces,  nothing  can 
be  gained.  I  will  not  mention  the  material 
side  of  it,  for  it  takes  care  of  itself. 

The  Community  Theatre  in  Oberammergau 
is  the  result  of  centuries.  It  is  an  inborn  in- 
heritance which  proves  the  evolution  of  a  steady 
living  and  growing  into  their  parts.  We  have 
annual  plays,  given  in  our  Rehearsal  Theatre, 
where  children  are  allowed  to  act  and  to  give 
self-expression  to  their  interpretation,  which  of 
course  makes  the  child  creative.  The  director, 
who  is  also  an  Oberammergauer  (years  ago  my 
own  father  supervised  the  rehearsals  and  prepa- 
rations for  the  Passion  Play)  may  reject 
or  sanction  one's  ideas.  They  follow  certain 
tradition.  However,  one  can  create  one's  own 
part,  whether  in  the  Passion  Play,  or  in  the 
other  Plays. 

Since  the  time  of  Richard  Wagner  and  Lud- 
wig  II,  King  of  Bavaria,  the  drama  has 
flourished  not  merely  in  the  city  but  to  a  great 
extent  in  the  country,  where,  as  is  the  case 
with  my  own  village,  we  get  the  benefit  out  of 
the  high  artistic  reproductions  of  the  theatre  in 
Munich. 

Drama  and  Music  go  hand  in  hand,  and  the 
people  love  to  cultivate  these  Muses. 

And  Friiulein  Mayer  is  not  alone  in  feeling 
that  the  PasKion  Play,  the  Community  Theatre 
in  Oberammergau,  as  she  calls  it,  is  the  cause 


lot    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

of  the  uniqueness,  rather  than  the  result  of  any 
unusual  gift  in  the  mountain  stock.  Mr. 
William  T.  Stead  wrote  with  no  little  emotion, 
in  the  guide  book  which  he  made  for  travelers 
to  the  Passion  Play,  of  the  life  in  the  village 
when  the  curious  outside  world  had  ebbed  back 
down  the  mountain  side.  His  words  are  a 
fitting  close  to  our  discussion. 

"Their  royal  robes  laid  aside,"  he  said, 
"they  go  about  their  ordinary  work  in  the 
ordinary  way  as  ordinary  mortals.  But  what 
a  revelation  it  is  of  latent  capacity,  musical, 
dramatic,  and  intellectual,  in  the  human  race, 
that  a  single  mountain  village  can  furnish  under 
capable  guidance,  and  with  adequate  inspira- 
tion, such  a  host,  competent  to  set  forth  such 
a  play,  from  its  herders,  tailors,  ploughmen, 
bakers,  and  the  like.  It  is  not  native  capacity 
that  is  lacking  to  mankind.  It  is  the  guiding 
brain,  the  patient  love,  the  careful  education, 
the  stimulus  and  inspiration  of  a  great  idea. 
But  given  these,  every  village  from  Dorset  to 
Caithness  might  develop  artists  as  noble  and 
devoted  as  those  of  Oberammergau." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

What  the  Theatre  Offers 

Institutions  of  democracy  arc  distinguished 
by  the  fact  that  they  possess  the  power  to  per- 
petuate and  perfect  themselves  while  they  give 
the  greatest  amount  of  freedom  for  develop- 
ment to  the  individuals  of  which  ihey  are  com- 
posed. The  theatre  is  preeminent  among  the 
arts  in  those  qualities  which  fit  it  for  establish- 
ment upon  a  basis  of  democracy.  For,  unlike 
painting  or  sculpture,  the  theatre  is  a  complex 
art.  It  is  a  composite  created  by  uniting  and 
harmonizing  the  labor  of  all  the  arts. 

No  one  is  excluded  from  the  theatre.  Here 
is  a  workshop  for  every  kind  of  workman. 
The  impulse  of  imitation,  the  instinct  of  rep- 
resentation, upon  which  Aristotle  based  his 
theories  of  art  in  the  Poefics,  may  here  find  a 
place  to  grow,  not  only  in  their  greatest  but  in 
their  humblest  manifestations.  It  is  not  easy 
105 


106    THE    COMINIUNITY  THEATRE 

to  confine  the  desire  to  create  within  Hmits. 
The  expression  of  the  imitative  faculty  often  is 
remote  from  what  we  are  accustomed  to  think 
of  as  creation.  Clearly  it  is  this  impulse  which 
causes  the  little  girl  to  mark  out  with  stones 
the  rooms  of  her  "house"  under  the  big  tree 
in  her  back  yard,  before  she  calls  to  "Mrs. 
Robinson"  to  come  over  the  fence  and  pay  her 
a  visit.  From  similar  stirrings  rises  the  fascina- 
tion which  a  little  boy  in  his  nursery  finds  in 
building  him  a  cathedral  of  blocks — ^"but  not 
quite  like  the  picture,  Mother!"  Wlien  to 
announce  a  royal  approach  in  a  school  pageant, 
a  gawky  boy  is  changed  for  the  moment  of  his 
difficult  trumpeting  into  a  Herald  of  the  King, 
the  charm  is  due  to  the  magic  of  the  impulse 
to  create.  But  these  cases  are  obvious. 
Clearly  such  impulses  are  trained  and  led 
through  the  art  of  the  theatre.  It  is  of  more 
obscure  instances  that  it  is  necessary  to  speak. 
The  artist  cannot  stand  alone  in  the  theatre. 
He  is  dependent  upon  a  host  of  other  workers. 
It  does  not  take  a  specially  trained  or  gifted 
person  to  set  uj)  a  proper  range  in  a  New 
England  kitchen,  but  in  that  act  one  worker 


WHAT  THE  THEATRE  OFFERS  107 

may  find  as  much  satisfaction  for  his  impulse 
to  create  as  another  would  find  in  the  playing 
of  Hamlet.  There  are  innumerable  little  tasks 
about  the  production  of  every  play  which 
must  be  accomplished  and  which  with  proper 
care  can  be  made  to  do  the  double  duty  of 
serving  the  theatre  and  the  one  who  undertakes 
them.  A  doorbell  must  ring  at  the  right 
moment  —  who  will  press  the  button  ?  Why 
not  the  boy  who  tinkers  with  old  electric  bat- 
teries at  home  and  who  could  never  do  anything 
else  in  the  theatre  because  he  is  too  shy  ?  A 
pane  of  glass  must  crash  to  the  floor  outside 
the  door  to  make  it  seem  that  windows  are 
being  broken  —  what  a  chance  for  the  boy 
who  is  destructive  and  likes  to  break  glass ! 
Bring  him  in  and  make  his  desire  to  smash 
constructive  in  spite  of  him.  A  mysterious 
gray  figure  must  slip  across  the  open  doorway 
in  the  twilight :  surely  this  is  an  excellent  op- 
portunity for  the  little  trembling  grandmother 
who  has  longed  for  years  to  act  on  the  stage, 
but  who  is  not  able  to  do  more,  since  the 
lia}>it  of  her  life  prevents  her.  It  is  easy  to 
conjure    up    the    picture    she    would     make, 


108    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

wrapped  in  a  long  robe,  faltering  with  anxiety 
and  desire  suddenly  attainable,  flushed  with 
pardonable  pride  when  the  escapade  was  over ! 
Moreover,  there  are  frocks  to  be  shortened, 
delicate  draperies  to  fashion,  letters  which 
must  be  written  and  sealed  with  a  splotch  of 
sealing  wax.  The  writer  remembers  still  what 
energy  and  care  she  once  put  into  such  a  docu- 
ment, and  the  pleasure  which  filled  her  when 
the  chief  actor  nonchalantly  broke  it  open ! 

Closely  allied  to  the  creative  force  behind 
these  details  is  the  energy  which  we  call  execu- 
tive ability.  The  power  to  arrange  and  to 
organize  takes  the  place  in  certain  gifted  people 
of  the  desire  to  make  things.  It  is  a  necessary 
quality,  and  one  which  will  find  outlet  through 
the  community  theatre.  For  the  theatre,  in 
order  that  it  produce  the  most  finished  plays 
and  that  it  give  as  much  joy  as  possible  to  the 
community,  will  require  every  ounce  of  organ- 
izing power  within  its  scope.  The  machinery 
of  the  theatrical  factory  is  complicated :  it 
demands  attention  in  every  great  and  less 
degree.  The  control  of  the  audience  is  an 
important  branch :    the  theatre   should   know 


WHAT  THE  THEATRE  OFFERS  109 

the  feelings  and  hopes  of  its  body.  Moreover 
the  physical  facts  of  production  are  made  easy 
by  classification  and  arrangement :  costumes, 
wigs,  and  properties  should  be  in  careful  order 
and  under  the  charge  of  trained  workers. 
The  system  of  seating  must  be  invented  and 
managed  by  a  corps  of  eflBcient  ushers.  And 
with  every  performance  new  problems  will 
arise  to  tax  the  ingenuity  of  the  orderly  mind. 

The  community  is  not  to  be,  in  the  theatre, 
like  the  same  community  in  its  park  outside. 
The  community  theatre  will  gather  a  collection 
of  heterogeneous  units,  but  it  will  mold  them 
into  one  whole.  The  community  in  the  park 
has  nothing  further  in  common  than  such 
advantages  as  are  offered  by  a  common  locality  : 
in  the  theatre  it  is  to  work  together,  it  is  to 
play  together :  to  feel  as  one  individual,  to 
share  its  laughter  and  its  tears. 

The  theatre  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  serve 
as  a  common  interest  for  a  diverse  community. 
It  has  something  of  the  emotional  and  under- 
lying quality  of  religion,  without  the  dogmatic 
and  metaphysical  limitations  of  the  Churcli. 
It   can   express   the  beauty   which   religion   in 


no    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

every  form  is  expressing,  without  exciting  the 
antagonism  which  follows  the  intricate  argu- 
ment dependent  upon  creeds.  The  theatre  can 
join  the  Church,  and,  beyond,  can  gather  to 
itself  the  social,  lay  endeavors,  making  them 
one.  Even  the  most  Quakerish  dissenters 
from  the  evils  of  "play-acting"  may  be  won 
over  with  tact.  The  experience  of  playground 
directors  demonstrates  how  prejudice  may  be 
circumvented.  Many  recreation  centres  have 
met  with  opposition  so  vigorous  that  it  seemed 
a  menace  to  their  lives  when  they  suggested  the 
introduction  of  folk  dancing  into  the  routine. 
Yet  the  evident  value  of  the  rhythm  and 
vitality  which  are  the  chief  characteristics  of 
the  dances  made  strategy  worth  while.  There- 
fore the  youngsters  in  those  protesting  vicinities 
have  been  sent  home  talking  of  "fancy  steps", 
and  in  due  time  the  most  violent  opposers 
have  joined  in  the  general  applause  at  the 
exhibitions  of  their  skill ! 

Too  much  stress  cannot  be  put  upon  the 
value  of  the  community  theatre  in  providing  a 
common  cause  for  a  community.  Our  com- 
mercially organized  society  has  distorted  values 


WHAT  THE  THEATRE  OFFERS  111 

by  a  continued  emphasis  upon  the  ability  to 
grasp  until  we  have  lost  enthusiasm  for  the 
power  to  give.  In  the  community  theatre  we 
are  as  individuals  less  concerned  with  snatch- 
ing away  something  for  selfish  ends  than  we 
are  with  contributing  to  the  store  of  common 
beauty.  The  qualities  which  are  most  in  play 
will  be  the  altruistic  attributes.  To  refer  once 
more  to  Fraulein  Mayer's  phrasing,  the  theatre 
is,  as  she  says,  "an  ideal  to  which  each  and 
every  one  can  devote  heart  and  soul." 

The  community  in  the  theatre  falls  into 
three  distinct  groups,  or  better,  into  three 
aspects,  for  the  group  is  persistently  the  whole 
community.  There  is  the  audience  as  a  whole, 
that  personalized  assembly  whose  thought  the 
artist  of  the  theatre  strives  to  vitalize. 
Secondly,  there  is  the  artist  group,  the  divi- 
sion which  includes  in  a  sense  the  least  member 
of  the  audience,  but  which  has  a  kernel  in  those 
gifted  ones  to  whom  the  artistic  control  will 
be  delegated.  And  lastly  there  are  the 
workers  whose  activities  are  in  every  branch 
of  executive  management,  and  the  multitudi- 
nous necessary  duties  of  production.     In  each 


112    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

aspect  the  theatre  offers  great  benefits  to  the 
audience. 

As  a  whole  the  community  audience  receives 
an  intelh'gent  relaxation  to  beguile  its  leisure 
hours.  This  house  of  play  is  the  property  of  the 
whole  community.  It  is  based  upon  an  intel- 
lectual cornerstone,  and  is  constantly  changing. 
It  offers  recreation,  the  relief  and  revivifying  of 
faculties  fagged  with  labor  :  it  offers  amusement, 
and  one  of  its  basic  principles  should  be  to  make 
that  amusement  coincide  with  the  desire  of  the 
audience.  For  the  audience  is  its  cause  for 
existence  and  its  excuse  for  continuance. 

Entertainment  will  be  its  primary  aim :  to 
divert  and  to  serve  as  a  pastime  will  be  its 
first  duty.  But  because  the  audience  is  to  be 
an  active  and  not  an  inert  recipient  of  this 
entertainment,  and  because  every  kind  of  in- 
fluence will  be  given  a  chance  to  exert  itself, 
the  quality  of  the  theatre's  products  is  bound 
to  improve.  It  may  do  so  very  slowly ;  but 
it  is  a  curious  fact  that  human  beings,  by  doing 
one  thing  well,  learn  to  appreciate  the  intrinsic 
value  of  another  thing  well  done,  and  growth  is 
inevitable. 


WHAT   THE   THEATRE   OFFERS    113 

After  it  is  amused,  then,  the  audience  may 
find  an  intellectual  stimulus  in  its  theatre. 
The  leisure  of  such  a  community  becomes,  in 
Mr.  MacKaye's  vivid  phrase,  "a  constructive 
leisure."  The  art  of  the  theatre  is,  like  all 
arts,  based  upon  the  emotions  of  the  human 
race,  and  is  expressed  through  the  limitations 
of  the  human  intellect.  The  most  primitive 
member  of  the  community  is  moved  by  the  ap- 
peal to  his  emotions,  but  step  by  step  the 
superimposing  of  an  intellectual  appeal  has  its 
effect  until  the  form  and  the  expression  also 
have  weight.  This  feeling  for  form  is  the 
beginning  of  the  education  of  the  audience. 
The  theatre  now  becomes  an  intellectual  as 
well  as  a  sensuous  pleasure;  it  satisfies  the 
cravings  of  the  mind  as  well  as  the  desire  for 
rest  and  relaxation.  And  with  the  birth  of  an 
intellectual  interest  comes  also  a  broadening 
and  a  stinudation  of  taste. 

But  all  these  things  are  slow  processes. 
The  audience  learns  through  its  participation 
in  the  work  of  the  theatre,  through  the  con- 
stantly changing  demands  of  the  theatre,  the 
work  on  conmiittees  and  the  art  interpretation. 


114    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

The  association  with  great  works  of  art  is  in 
itself  a  stimulation,  but  such  works  of  art  can- 
not be  used  to  the  exclusion  of  less  admirable 
ones  for  reasons  of  policy  and  practical  common 
sense. 

To  those  members  of  the  community  whose 
life  is  to  be  spent  in  the  world  of  art  the  theatre 
opens  its  arms.  In  organization,  in  execution, 
in  the  details  of  financial  management,  even 
in  the  humanitarian  sciences,  the  theatre  offers 
opportunities;  but  these  are  not  gifts  which 
can  be  found  in  no  other  place.  Public  offices 
unconnected  with  art  are  rich  in  them.  But 
the  artist  is  handicapped :  our  present  society 
offers  him  no  studio  under  the  cold  north  light 
of  which  he  may  test  his  visions  and  discard 
them  for  fresh  ones.  The  theatre  gives  him 
that  studio.  It  is  —  odious  as  the  word  often 
seems  —  a  school  for  artists. 

No  artist  is  forgotten :  the  work  of  each  is 
equally  welcome.  The  musician  as  well  as  the 
actor;  the  playwright,  poet,  and  composer 
alike;  the  dancer  and  the  mimic;  the  archi- 
tect and  the  sculptor,  the  painter  with  his 
palette  on  his  arm  —  each  and  every  one  has 


WHAT  THE   THEATRE   OFFERS    115 

his  niche.  They  are  marshalled  in  comrade- 
ship :  they  lean  one  upon  the  other :  now  one 
shall  claim  the  chief  importance,  the  stage's 
centre,  and  now  another.  The  arts  in  the 
theatre  shall  rediscover  the  old  interdependence. 

It  may  well  be  said  that  already  interaction 
and  interdependence  have  been  established  in 
the  commercial  theatre.  That  is  true,  but  true 
only  in  a  limited  sense,  for  the  restraint  exer- 
cised by  the  precariousness  of  the  theatrical 
profession  disturbs  the  perfect  balance.  The 
mingling  of  the  arts  is  vital,  but  not  so  vital 
as  the  existence  of  a  true  public,  a  living,  breath- 
ing audience. 

This  new  audience  is  not  to  be  a  precious 
body.  It  is  not  a  set  of  dilettante  sensation 
seekers.  It  has  normal  reactions  and  a  keen 
interest  which  is  practical  and  immediate. 
Here  is  some  one  to  listen  to  what  the  artist 
has  to  say  —  not  to  listen  curiously  as  to  some 
oddity  in  a  nmseum,  but  to  give  him  quiet  at- 
tention. The  artist  will  not  complain  because 
flaws  are  found  in  his  work :  he  will  take  the 
condemnation  of  his  color-values,  the  discovery 
of  limping  lines  in  his  blank  verse,  and  the 


116    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

shocked  faces  at  his  disharmonies,  with  glow- 
ing pride  because  he  has  the  real  eye,  ear,  and 
mind,  of  real  people.  Then  the  makers  of 
beauty  may  flourish  among  us  as  natural 
creatures  instead  of  anomalies,  and  art  come 
into  its  own. 

After  all,  the  sum  of  what  the  theatre  offers 
to  the  artist  lies  rather  in  the  reinstatement  of 
art  than  in  his  personal  acquisition.  By  the 
establishment  of  the  theatre  in  the  community 
as  common  property,  by  assembling  the  forces 
of  the  people  for  general  good,  the  arts  which 
are  the  fruits  of  the  endeavor  become  objects 
of  civic  admiration.  We  are  a  puritanical 
country.  How  often  do  we  stumble  on  proofs 
of  it !  We  are  shy  of  what  appeals  strongly  to 
our  senses.  We  feel  an  uneasiness  in  the 
presence  of  art :  we  distrust  it  as  a  life  force. 
But  in  the  community  theatre  there  is  a  chance 
for  art  to  bloom  under  the  eye  of  the  whole 
people,  to  answer  the  crying  need.  In  the 
community  theatre  a  universal  recognition  of 
art  becomes  not  only  possible  but  inevitable. 
This  is  the  great  gift  of  the  community  theatre 
to  the  artist  —  and  to  all  the  people. 


CHAPTER  IX 

How  Shall  We  Organize? 

To  all  who  wish  to  organize  a  theatre  in 
their  community  it  is  necessary  to  say  only, 
"Begin."  Begin  now.  If  three  people  and 
no  more  are  ready,  let  two  of  them  act  for  the 
joy  of  the  third  !  Do  not  wait  for  a  theatre,  but 
make  a  barn  the  playhouse,  and  give  an  out-of- 
door  play  in  the  summer  sunshine  of  late  June. 
Turn  the  porch  into  a  stage,  or  let  a  parlor  serve 
the  purpose  to  an  auditorium  adjoining  from 
which  the  dining  table  has  been  temporarily 
removed.  The  Passion  Play  of  Oljerammergau 
was  first  given  in  the  church  of  the  village,  and 
the  Abbey  Theatre  was  made  from  a  morgue ! 

If  there  be  a  village  green,  why  not  begin  with 
a  pageant  there  ?  It  will  help  advertise.  Let 
half-hearted  believers  be  shown  the  flash  of 
color  and  th(?  stately  movement  as  the  town's 
most  distinguished  ancestor  enacts  for  them 
117 


118    THE   COIVIMUNITY  THEATRE 

his  most  historic  deeds :  few  will  remain  half- 
hearted after  they  have  watched  the  stirring 
spectacle.  First  of  all,  let  there  be  a  living 
spirit.  If  that  spirit  exists,  if  the  desire  be 
alive  —  no  matter  how  insignificant  the  spark 
—  tasks  Herculean  in  size  may  be  brought  to 
completion. 

Mr.  Henry  Arthur  Jones  has  long  been  an 
advocate  of  the  theatre  as  an  established  State 
institution.  No  other  person  has  tried  so  hard 
to  found  a  National  Theatre  in  England.  But 
of  all  that  he  has  said  and  written,  a  statement 
made  before  the  Harvard  Dramatic  Club,  some 
five  years  ago,  has  impressed  itself  most  vividly 
upon  my  memory.  "The  theatre  needs,"  said 
Mr.  Jones,  "not  great  monuments  like  the  New 
Theatre  in  New  York  City,  but  teachers, 
enthusiasts.  Saint  Pauls  of  the  Drama.''  Such 
apostles  of  the  theatre  may  work  wherever 
they  may  be :  certainly  the  Christian  religion 
did  not  demand  a  cathedral  for  its  early  prac- 
tice ! 

It  is  equally  unnecessary  to  wait  for  money. 
Do  not  worry  about  luxuries ;  begin  without  a 
penny.     The  original  endowment  of  the  Abbey 


HOW  SHALL  WE   ORGANIZE?     119 

Theatre  was  notoriously  ten  guineas.  Poverty, 
when  it  does  not  entail  hunger,  serves  as  an 
invigoration.  The  theatre  without  money  will 
be  limited,  but  not  in  its  capacity  for  growth. 
Every  device  of  ingenuity  which  the  moneyless 
theatre  employs  will  increase  the  wealth  of  that 
theatre  a  thousandfold.  The  theatrical  pro- 
fession has  been  taught  a  great  lesson  about 
expenditure.  New  York  productions  —  and 
many  others  as  well  —  were  challenged  by  the 
artistic  excellence  of  the  Portmanteau  Theatre 
under  Mr.  Stuart  Walker's  direction.  Yet  in 
his  introduction  to  "Portmanteau  Plays", 
Mr.  Edward  Bierstadt  asserts  that  money  was 
a  force  almost  negligible  in  the  Portmanteau 
campaign.  Mr.  Walker  found  no  lack  of 
enthusiasm  for  a  play,  the  cost  of  which  was 
actually  not  one  cent :  on  the  contrary,  its 
success  equalled  his  most  expensive  produc- 
tion, the  play  upon  which  he  lavished  fifteen 
hundred  dollars.  However,  to  the  Broadway 
producer  it  does  not  seem  more  astounding 
that  a  play  which  cost  nothing  should  succeed 
than  that  any  play  could  be  staged  with  an 
expenditure   of   only   fifteen   hundred   dollars ! 


no      THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

For  upon  Broadway  men  think  in  thousands 
of  dollars  :  it  is  inconceivable  that  the  theatre 
should  be  established  (as  Mr.  Walker's  was) 
with  only  three  thousand  dollars  capital  and 
the  vital  energy  of  young  enthusiasm. 

The  spirit  which  is  not  thinking  of  money  is 
clearly  shown  in  Oberammergau.  Fraulein 
Mayer  writes  simply,  "I  will  not  mention  the 
material  side  of  it  for  it  takes  care  of  itself." 
She  speaks  a  great  truth :  the  community 
theatre  which  will  be  the  greatest  success  is 
not  the  one  which  begins  with  the  largest  pres- 
ent of  money,  but  the  one  where  the  spirit  of 
cooperation  and  fellowship  is  thriving  most 
vigorously. 

Begin  at  once  with  the  two  or  three  members 
whose  faith  is  strong.  But  begin  upon  a 
strong  foundation  of  fellowship.  Let  no  limits 
be  set  upon  the  membership  :  make  the  theatre 
as  wide  as  the  community.  Do  not  allow  what 
seems  like  the  promise  of  an  immediate  growth 
to  limit  and  narrow  the  most  valuable  asset  a 
theatre  can  have.  In  a  village  every  member 
—  every  inhabitant  —  should  be  included : 
neither  youth  nor  age  should  be  cause  for  ex- 


HOW  SHALL  WE   ORGANIZE?     121 

eluding  an  interested  candidate.  The  doors 
of  the  theatre  should  always  swing  wide  open 
to  the  magic  of  the  word  "willing."  At  first 
it  will  be  possible  to  include  only  those  who 
come  of  their  own  desire ;  when  the  theatre 
has  been  firmly  established,  when  it  actually 
belongs  to  all  the  community,  the  recalcitrants 
will  be  dragged  in  by  the  tug  of  public  opinion. 
But  in  the  beginning  it  will  be  well  to  let  the 
members  feel  that  he  who  comes  must  bring 
a  gift,  that  any  gift,  however  small,  is  wel- 
comed, and  that  every  member  of  the  theatre 
groups  will  share  equally  in  all  the  privileges 
of  the  theatre. 

Membership  in  the  community  theatre 
should  never  be  limited  except  by  the  limits  of 
the  community.  Individual  cases  will  expound 
peculiar  problems.  The  age  limit  is  one  which 
is  common  to  all  theatres,  and  which  w^ill  be 
variously  solved.  To  exclude  children  and 
growing  boys  and  girls  seems  not  only  unkind 
to  them,  but  also  unwise  from  every  angle  from 
which  it  can  be  considered.  It  would  naturally 
deprive  the  theatre  of  valuable  material.  At 
the  same  time  it  would  also  take  away  some- 


12e    THE   COMIVIUNITY  THEATRE 

thing  which  the  cliildren  could  get  in  no  other 
way  —  the  joy  of  guided  self-expression,  the 
possibility  of  cooperative  work,  and  an  interest 
at  once  intellectual  and  amusing. 

However,  in  every  theatre  it  may  not  be 
possible  to  include  all  children,  and  in  that  case, 
a  children's  supplementary  organization,  which 
could  be  formed,  would  serve  as  a  feeder  for 
the  grown-up  theatre.  A  play  given  by  both 
these  once  a  year  will  offer  an  interesting  ex- 
change of  ideas. 

Membership,  then,  is  not  to  be  limited  except 
by  residence  in  the  actual  group.  Villages 
which  have  to  meet  the  question  of  summer 
colonists  will  certainly  not  exclude  them,  but 
will  take  care  not  to  let  a  part  assume  the  re- 
sponsibilities and  the  benefits  of  the  whole. 
Summer  visitors  will  prove  helpful :  there  no 
doubt  will  be  gifted  and  able  individuals 
among  them ;  but  they  must  not  carry  off  all 
the  honors.  The  theatre  must  let  the  "summer 
people"  speak,  but  must  not  aim  to  lisp  only 
in  their  words. 

Closely  associated  with  membership  is  the 
question  of  dues  —  of  the  taxation  upon  which 


HOW  SHALL  WE  ORGANIZE?    123 

the  first  financial  endowment  of  the  theatre 
is  to  depend.  This  should  be  small,  indeed 
purely  nominal,  as  the  poll  tax  is  nominal 
—  something  which  every  one  must  and  can 
pay.  There  should  be  nothing  resembling  the 
old  initiation  fee  of  a  dramatic  club.  The  sum, 
of  course,  must  be  set  to  accord  with  the  needs 
and  financial  vision  of  the  people :  a  dollar 
is  by  no  means  a  fixed  sum ;  there  are  places 
which  regard  it  as  negligible  and  others  where 
its  value  is  tremendous.  In  country  towns 
where  barter  still  persists  the  fact  that  the 
theatrical  tax  was  one  dollar  a  year  might 
keep  many  members  from  "joining." 

Montclair,  New  Jersey,  has  established 
during  the  past  year  a  theatre  whose  ideals  of 
membership  and  whose  general  policy  are  in 
accordance  with  the  strictest  community 
theatre  demands.  In  Montclair  every  one  is 
welcomed  into  the  theatre :  during  the  few 
months  of  its  existence,  the  number  of  members 
has  passed  two  hundred  and  fifty,  if  not  at  this 
time  three  hundred.  The  dues  are  fifty  cents 
a  year  —  moderate  certainly,  for  a  township 
which  is  usually  considered  a  rich  one.     This 


124    THE  COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

membership,  however,  does  not  admit  to  all 
performances  of  the  theatre,  to  which  tickets 
arc  sold  at  a  basic  price  of  twenty-five  cents 
each ;  but  does  give  one  the  entree  to  a  special 
performance  at  the  end  of  the  season,  to  which 
no  seats  are  sold. 

This  plan  seems  not  so  wise  as  the  one  of 
having  a  larger  tax,  and  giving  more  definite 
meaning  to  its  payment.  Why  not  charge  a 
dollar  and  exclude  from  acting  and  from  the 
usual  programme  of  plays  all  people  who  are 
not  members  ?  Let  the  membership  committee 
be  composed  of  tactful  and  thoughtful  people : 
should  any  candidate  appear  whose  inability 
to  pay  a  dollar  was  evident,  let  proper  means 
for  the  earning  of  that  dollar  be  provided.  If 
necessary,  have  the  payment  of  the  dollar  in 
two  parts ;  but  let  the  dues  cover  the  expenses 
of  the  year's  list  of  plays.  And,  instead  of  one 
play  to  which  only  members  and  their  invited 
guests  may  come,  why  not  have  one  or  two 
plays,  widely  advertised  and  produced  with 
great  care,  to  which  the  world  is  bidden  ?  They 
will  increase  membership  and  the  money  in 
the  treasury. 


HOW  SHALL  WE   ORGANIZE?     125 

It  may  be  said  that  the  first  pkm,  the  pay- 
ment of  a  small  tax  and  of  letting  non-members 
as  well  as  members  see  all  the  plays  and  act 
whatever  parts  they  can,  is  broader  and  more 
truly  democratic.  On  the  contrary,  it  seems 
to  me  that  it  is  necessary  everywhere  in  life  to 
lay  equal  emphasis  upon  privilege  and  re- 
sponsibility. The  theatre  needs  the  dignity  of 
a  social  recognition  as  much  as  it  needs  the 
money  which  increased  membership  will  bring: 
the  membership  should  therefore  have  a  defi- 
nite meaning  and  should  be  defined  by  a 
clearly  drawn  line.  Those  outside  that  line 
should  not  share  the  advantages  of  those 
inside,  but  no  one  should  be  kept  outside 
arbitrarily. 

However  small  the  actual  number  of 
members  which  forms  the  nucleus  of  the 
community  theatre,  it  will  be  well  from  the 
first  to  make  it  assume  the  outlines  of  a  demo- 
cratic government.  It  may  be  that  some  more 
fortunate  form  of  government,  lacking  the 
defects  which  are  so  clearly  recognizable  in 
the  practice  of  democracy,  the  faults  of  wire- 
pulling and  politics  and  inefficiency,  some  form 


126    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

of  government  with  less  discrepancy  between 
the  ideal  and  the  exercise  of  the  function,  may 
be  discovered  by  our  children's  children.  In  the 
meantime,  however,  we  are  accustomed  to  the 
device  of  popular  representation :  it  is  a  con- 
trivance which  seems  natural.  From  the  be- 
ginning, it  will  be  well  to  let  every  member  of 
the  audience  feel  his  own  authority  by  sub- 
mitting the  choice  of  the  executive  staff  to  a 
popular  vote. 

Such  a  course  meets  at  once  two  major 
objections :  officers  chosen  by  vote  are  not 
necessarily  the  most  efficient  candidates,  and 
the  audience-body  is  not  necessarily  the  best 
judge  of  things  artistic;  it  will  be  more  likely 
to  elect  its  officers  upon  a  basis  of  political  popu- 
larity. These  two  fundamental  difficulties 
must  be  dealt  with  by  a  limitation  of  the  power 
of  each  office  rather  than  by  any  restriction  of 
the  power  of  choice  conferred  upon  the  audience. 
The  direction  of  the  art  policy  will  have  to  be 
organized  carefully,  guarding  against  placing 
too  much  power  in  the  hands  of  an  officer 
liable  to  be  influenced  by  politics :  the  whole 
must  be  delicately  adjusted  to  suit  the  needs  of 


HOW  SHALL  WE   ORGANIZE?     127 

the  audience  as  well  as  those  of  the  most  favor- 
able art  conditions. 

The  president,  vice-president,  secretary,  and 
treasurer,  may  be  elected  by  the  audience. 
The  pull  of  politics  will  no  doubt  be  evident 
at  once  :  parties  will  form,  perhaps,  one  leaning 
towards  a  definite  art  policy,  and  one  strongly 
in  favor  of  popular  control  at  the  expense  of 
artistic  achievement.  But  these  two  parties 
are  best  calculated  to  make  the  theatre  an 
answer  to  the  dreams  of  both  its  founders. 
Neither  the  aims  of  the  artist  of  the  theatre, 
nor  those  of  the  social  scientist  will  be  wholly 
neglected  through  an  over-attention  to  the 
claims  of  the  other;  a  proper  balance  will  be 
maintained,  not  the  result  of  inertia,  but  the 
vital  balance  which  comes  from  the  opposition 
of  strong  forces. 

To  add  to  the  efficiency  of  the  executive 
corps  some  form  of  progression  in  office  may  be 
adapted  to  each  community.  In  a  town  made 
up  of  every  kind  of  person,  the  simple  method 
which  the  Idler  Club  has  developed  at  Rad- 
cliffe  College  would  prove  too  obvious.  Be- 
sides,   it   might   be   difficult   to   find   a   person 


128    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

who  could  sacrifice  so  much  time  to  the  theatre 
for  three  or  four  consecutive  years.  If,  how- 
ever, the  officers  be  elected  from  those  who  have 
served  upon  one  of  the  numerous  committees 
of  management  (which  will  be  treated  in  detail 
at  a  later  point),  and  if  the  chief  executive 
must  be  elected  from  the  officers  of  the  pre- 
vious year,  it  will  accomplish  much  the  same 
results.  No  executive  officer  will  come  to  his 
post  without  training  of  some  sort  in  the 
practical  work  "behind  the  scenes";  and  the 
presiding  officer,  during  two  years  of  service, 
will  have  learned  the  details  of  his  machinery, 
its  powers  and  its  limitations. 

The  president's  chief  qualification  should 
be  rather  for  execution  of  practical  detail 
than  for  art  creation  in  the  theatre.  The 
director  of  the  art  policy  should  not  be  a  person 
who  is  chosen  by  the  vote  of  the  audience : 
his  characteristics  are  rarely  those  which  would 
make  him  sufficiently  popular  to  win  him  an 
election.  The  art  direction  should  be  removed 
as  far  as  possible  from  the  effects  of  politics  : 
the  management  should  lie  in  the  hands  of  an 
appointed  officer.     His  appointment  must  not 


HOW  SHALL  WE   ORGANIZE?     129 

rest  in  the  hands  of  one  person,  but  shoukl  be 
subject  to  the  approval  of  several :  the  presi- 
dent who  is  entering  office,  taking  counsel  with 
the  retiring  president  and  with  the  art  director 
of  the  previous  year,  and  limited  somewhat  in 
his  action  by  their  opinions,  might  control 
the  decision.  The  committee  which  with  the 
director  is  to  execute  the  art  policy  will  in  turn 
be  chosen  by  the  new  director  and  the  new 
president,  still  advised  by  the  experienced 
officers  of  the  former  year. 

The  matter  of  the  term  of  service  for  a 
director  is  another  point  v/hich  must  be 
dififerently  decided  in  different  localities.  No 
doubt  at  first  there  may  be  one  person  who 
stands  out  as  preeminently  the  director.  It 
would  be  unwise  to  put  into  the  office  people 
utterly  unfit  for  its  duties  simply  because  of  a 
rule  that  the  director  must  change  every  twelve 
months.  Indeed,  I  am  inclined  to  the  belief 
that  a  longer  term  of  office  will  prove  more 
satisfactory.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is 
danger  in  one  person's  too  steady  control  of 
the  art  policy  :  terms  of  office  should  not  be 
unlimited.     And  from  the  committee  under  the 


130    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

director  there  will  come  candidates  filled  with 
promise  and  fresh  ideas. 

These  chief  officers  then,  the  president,  the 
vice-president,  the  secretary,  and  the  treas- 
urer, form  the  Executive  Committee.  They  will 
control  broadly  the  plans  of  the  theatre  and 
its  general  management.  In  their  turn  they 
will  be  assisted  and  supported  by  a  large  number 
of  minor  committees,  appointed  and  reinforced 
every  year,  which  carry  on  the  difficult  special 
services  of  the  ordinary  running  of  a  theatre. 
The  art  director  with  his  committee  will  pro- 
duce, stage,  and  coach  the  actors  of  every 
production.  He  will,  moreover,  read  the  plays, 
with  the  assistance  of  the  Play-reading  Com- 
mittee y  and  choose  his  programme.  For  his 
assistance  there  will  be  maintained  a  Com- 
mittee on  Costumes,  a  Committee  on  Settings, 
a  Committee  on  Lighting,  a  Committee  on  Wigs 
and  Hairdressing,  and  a  Committee  on  Prop- 
erties. These  specialized  groups  will  be  able 
to  tell  him  exactly  what  exists  in  the  stock  of 
the  theatre,  and  will  arrange  that  he  gets  what- 
ever he  needs.  Their  duties  and  their  train- 
ing will  be  examined  in  the  next  chapter. 


HOW  SHALL  WE   ORGANIZE?     131 

Thus,  with  a  careful  protection  of  the  art 
direction,  and  the  hmitation  of  the  powers  of 
the  executives  who  depend  directly  upon 
popular  election  for  their  offices,  it  will  be 
possible  to  establish  a  system  of  checks  and 
counter  forces  upon  the  whimsical  will  of  a 
democratic  control.  And  although  when  the 
organization  is  founded  with  a  small  circle 
only  —  the  two  or  three  members  mentioned 
at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter  —  it  will  not 
be  possible  to  follow  so  elaborate  an  arrange- 
ment, the  details  may  well  be  kept  in  mind, 
for  the  growth  will  be  rapid,  and  the  need  for  a 
fair  assignment  of  duties  will  promptly  be 
forced  upon  the  organizers. 


CHAPTER  X 

What  Can  Be  Done  with  Little 

Technology  of  production  in  the  theatre  is 
not  the  concern  of  these  chapters.  It  belongs 
rather  to  each  individual  who  will  find  himself 
in  control  of  the  artistic  problems.  But  there 
are  certain  experiences  which  taken  in  conjunc- 
tion are  an  argument  against  those  members  of 
the  theatrical  profession  who  feci  the  need  for 
great  sums  of  money  in  the  launching  of  any 
theatrical  enterprise.  It  is  possible  to  create 
fine  stage  effects  with  only  the  smallest  re- 
sources. 

A  number  of  books  upon  the  new  theories 
of  stage  decoration  are  named  in  the  Appendix. 
They  dwell  upon  the  importance  of  eliminating 
details  and  speak  at  length  upon  abstract 
questions :  they  are  valuable  to  the  student 
and  to  the  would-be  producer.  Design,  color, 
light  and  shade,  contrast,  spirit,  and  mood  of 
132 


THE  USE  OF  LITTLE  THINGS    133 

the  play  and  of  the  scene,  are  details  that 
demand  an  ultimate  attention ;  but  it  is  much 
more  likely  that  the  first  question  the  director 
will  have  to  meet  will  have  a  more  pressing 
form.  He  will  not  be  asked  for  a  solution  to 
any  problem  in  theoretic  design :  he  will  be 
importuned  to  make  a  garden  which  shall 
satisfy  every  one.  And  can  a  garden  be  made 
without  money  ? 

There  is  little  an  artist  cannot  do  when 
cornered.  I  remember,  in  the  whitewashed 
basement  room  which  served  for  an  atelier  for 
the  scene  painter  of  the  47  Workshop  at  Har- 
vard, watching  the  final  strokes  put  on  a 
fountain.  Two  paint-daubed  workmen  hung 
over  it.  They  gloated  over  the  tiny  thread 
which  silvered  into  the  basin.  Even  in  the 
harshness  of  the  daylight  the  painted  wood 
and  canvas  looked  like  a  relic  of  Medieval 
Italy.  Under  lights  it  took  on  a  far-away 
reality :  the  silver  ribbon  purred  caressingly 
against  the  distorted  gray-green  mouth.  Yet 
to  the  artist  and  his  turpentine  scented  assist- 
ant tlio  chief  factor  of  the  triumph  lay  in  the 
origin  of  the  grinning  face  and  the  hollow  bowl. 


134     THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

The  humble  beginnings  of  that  Italian  foun- 
tain were  a  child's  Santa  Claus  "false  face",  a 
wooden  chopping  bowl  —  deftly  sawed  into 
shape  —  and  a  bit  of  tarnished  silver  braid. 

The  statement  that  economy  and  great  art 
are  inseparable  has  become  platitudinous. 
The  worker  in  the  arts  should  not  feel  stinted, 
but  he  should  be  convinced  that  he  must  avoid 
effort  —  effort  in  his  materials,  effort  in  his 
thought,  and  effort  in  his  methods.  There 
must  be  exertion  and  struggle,  but  the  result 
of  the  labor  should  be  so  simple  and  so  natural 
that  it  seems  wholly  effortless.  Again  and 
again  there  are  two  possible  ways  of  expressing 
an  idea  —  the  simple  way  and  the  complex  or 
sophisticated  one.  It  has  been  a  fault  of  our 
theatre  that  it  too  often  takes  the  complicated 
rather  than  the  straightforward  way. 

Elsewhere  I  have  spoken  of  Mr.  Stuart 
Walker's  Portmanteau  Theatre.  The  require- 
ments of  Mr.  Walker's  stage  are  such  that  he 
has  been  forced  to  employ  the  most  simple 
means,  even  had  he  not  been  drawn  to  simple 
things  by  his  tastes.  The  photograph  of  The 
Seven  Gifts,   the  Pantomime  which    the  Port- 


THE   USE   OF  LITTLE   THINGS     135 

manteau  Players  gave  in  Madison  Square, 
shows  how  simple  a  picture  may  be  without 
losing  anything  of  loveliness.  The  unaffeeted- 
ness  of  the  design,  the  repose  of  the  figures, 
and  the  elimination  of  every  unnecessary 
detail,  are  characteristic  of  Mr.  Walker's  work. 
He  drops  his  deep  blue  curtains,  moves  a  table 
anti  two  whimsical  chairs  to  his  forestage,  and, 
behold,  we  are  in  "a  room  just  up-stairs."  Or, 
with  a  soap  box  and  a  generous  supply  of 
imagination,  he  turns  that  same  forestage  for 
us  into  the  bank  of  a  river. 

The  primary  (or  I  might  have  said,  kinder- 
garten) productions  which  I  have  mentioned 
may  teach  much  to  the  beginner  in  the  theatre. 
(To  follow  Mr.  Walker's  more  venturesome 
flights  would  require  his  trained  corps  of 
artists.)  There  are  many  plays  which  can  be 
staged  amusingly  without  expenditure  of 
money,  if  only  thought  and  skill  are  available. 

One  small  stage  with  which  I  have  been  long 
familiar  was  built  by  an  architect  whose  ideals 
aimed  at  stability  rather  than  pliability.  The 
walls  are  inexorably  plastered  and  painted. 
Out-of-door  scenes  are  often  the  despair  of  the 


136    THE   COMiSIUNITY  THEATRE 

producer ;  but,  making  a  virtue  of  its  weakness, 
he  continually  used  the  stage  as  an  interior 
with  telling  effect.  Panels  of  wall  paper  ap- 
plied with  thumb  tacks  changed  the  room  from 
a  New  England  colonial  parlor  to  a  Louis  XVI 
boudoir,  at  a  cost  which  was  utterly  negligible. 
Or  again,  with  a  hanging  of  inexpensive  chintz, 
it  became  a  modern  English  drawing-room. 
And  the  wall  paper  as  well  as  the  chintz  could 
be  rolled  up  and  packed  away  in  a  small  space 
when  not  in  use. 

The  use  of  screens  and  of  hangings  has  totally 
altered  our  ideas  of  stage  illusion.  It  is  not 
necessary  that  every  least  can  of  sardines  be 
in  place,  in  staging  a  scene  in  a  grocery  store. 
The  shop  may  be  as  living  and  as  spiritually 
true  when  it  is  made  of  a  deal  table,  a  row  of 
wooden  boxes  which  have  cranberries  and 
carrots  peeping  out,  and  a  tall  bucket  or  so 
in  the  background.  A  beautifully  embroidered 
scarf  hanging  on  a  dark  screen  may  change  a 
bleak  hall  into  a  regal  throne-room,  and  long 
soft  curtains  may  be  turned  into  a  forest,  a 
peasant's  hut,  or  a  lady's  chamber  by  the  use 
of  a  single  property  in  each  separate  scene :   by 


THE  USE  OF  LITTLE   THINGS    137 

the  adroit  placing  of  shadows  to  simulate  the 
woods,  by  the  rough  hewn  bench  of  the  peas- 
ant, and  by  the  delicate  prie-dieu  with  a 
scarlet  cushion  upon  which  the  lady  kneels. 

The  same  property  may  be  used  again  and 
again.  In  the  property  room  of  the  Idler  Club 
is  a  silvery  whistle  which  was  originally  ac- 
quired to  indicate  the  passing  of  the  midnight 
flier.  It  tooted  much  like  a  locomotive  and 
sent  little  chills  down  the  backs  of  the  listeners. 
But  since  that  day  the  gleam  of  that  whistle 
has  served  many  a  purpose.  Once  it  was  the 
flashing  revolver  which  kept  the  villain  at 
bay  until  the  hero  arrived  to  clasp  the  fainting 
heroine :  again  it  was  valuable  family  silver, 
looted  by  burglars  from  the  safe  :  it  whistled 
outside  for  everything  from  a  tugboat  to  a 
policeman  :  it  was  a  toy  in  the  nursery  and 
part  of  a  soldier's  equipment.  The  cost  of 
the  whistle  was  twenty-five  cents,  eight  years 
ago :  it  is  as  fresh  and  energetic,  as  shrill 
and  ear  splitting  to-day  as  it  was  the  day  it 
was  triumphantly  unwrapped  for  the  admiring 
ears  of  the  greenroom  assem})led  ! 

TJic  Chinese  Lantern  bv  Lawrence  Housman 


138    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

suggests  endless  trains  of  thought  in  the  psy- 
chology of  stage  illusion.  In  China  the 
heaviest  carved  furniture  is  in  use.  The 
houses  are  not,  like  those  in  Japan,  built  of 
paper.  People  do  not  sit  on  the  floor.  And 
yet  Mr.  Housman  has  given  directions  for  all 
these  things,  and  when  under  the  inspired 
direction  of  Mr.  Sam  Hume,  the  play  was 
produced  in  Cambridge,  friends  of  the  author, 
who  had  lived  for  twenty  years  in  China,  could 
not  say  too  emphatically  that  it  was  exquisitely 
Chinese.  The  color  and  the  light  which  played 
against  the  soft-tinted,  glazed  background 
followed  the  emotion  of  the  play  step  by  step, 
and  wove  into  its  texture  a  faint  Orientalism, 
as  delicate  and  fanciful  as  a  dream.  Only  the 
slightest  suggestion  of  the  charm  of  the  staging 
can  be  found  in  the  photograph  of  the  set,  by 
Mr.  Hume  and  Mr.  Gardner  Hale,  which  is 
shown  on  the  opposite  page. 

Every  one  has  been  astonished  at  some  time 
by  the  marvel  of  a  simple  charade,  by  the  in- 
finite variety  of  a  table  cover,  and  the  charm  of 
a  garment  worn  upside  down.  One  member 
of  a  family  assumes  a  strange  wild  aspect  when 


y.    ^ 


THE   USE  OF  LITTLE   THINGS     139 

he  is  dressed  in  the  garments  of  another :  a 
collar  and  black  coat  put  on  backwards  quickly 
change  the  enfant  terrible  into  churchly  solem- 
nity. There  is  little  difference  in  producing  a 
vast  spectacle :  the  proportions  are  larger,  but 
the  elements  remain  the  same. 

Costuming  a  play  is  a  much  simpler  matter 
than  many  people  suppose.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  consult  a  costumer,  to  hire  elaborate  hideous- 
ness ;  it  is  not  even  necessary  to  buy  expensive 
materials.  From  attics  and  old  trunks  the 
most  amazing  treasures  may  be  dragged  to 
light.  Old  evening  frocks  can  be  altered  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  by  a  free  use  of  safety  pins 
to  almost  any  picturesque  period.  A  beaver 
hat  is  sure  to  lurk  in  an  unexpected  corner. 
An  ancient  military  cloak  will  shake  out  the 
scent  of  old  romance  from  its  folds  along  with 
the  flutter  of  dust  and  moths.  The  pretty 
paraphernalia  of  our  grandmothers,  the  fans, 
the  high-heeled  slippers,  the  quaint  coquettish 
sunshades,  need  not  remain  in  seclusion.  They 
should  take  their  proper  places. 

When  the  first  Peterborough  Pageant  was 
produced    in    memory   of    Mr.    Edward    Mac- 


140    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

Do  well,  Professor  George  P.  Baker  and  the 
Committee  were  at  a  loss  where  to  find  hoops 
and  the  calico  prints  which  were  needed  to  make 
the  Civil  War  scene  —  to  be  played  in  the  plain 
light  of  day  —  untheatric  and  real.  Professor 
Baker  delights  in  relating  how  he  found 
everything,  even  the  hoops,  packed  away  in 
the  dingy  recesses  of  the  village  shop :  and  he 
adds,  with  a  twinkle  of  humor,  that  the  store- 
keeper was  finally  prevailed  upon  to  sell  them 
at  less  than  the  wartime  prices ! 

The  most  impressive  Morocco  who  ever  sued 
for  Portia's  hand  wore  a  costume  which  could 
be  duplicated  by  the  skilful  draping  of  a  linen 
sheet,  and  the  apt  twist  of  a  Turkish  bath  towel. 
It  was  straight  and  long  and  princely :  its 
whiteness  threw  into  fatal  relief  the  mahogany 
of  the  Oriental  skin.  The  audience  felt  with 
the  lady  the  little  shudder  of  racial  mistrust 
even  while  it  drew  a  quicker  breath  at  the 
startling  beauty  of  the  suitor. 

Many  years  ago  I  was  present  at  the  pro- 
duction of  a  nursery  play  which  well  might 
liave  been  called  "  The  E.rploifs  of  an  Apron." 
There    were    other    actors,    but    through    five 


THE   USE   OF  LITTLE   THINGS     141 

acts  the  apron  —  the  full  white  apron  such  as 
nurses  wear  over  comfortable  laps  —  made  its 
entrances  and  exits.  There  was  no  act  in 
which  it  did  not  vary  its  performance :  there 
was  no  single  scene  in  which  it  did  not  appear. 
In  the  first  act  it  was  a  plain  apron,  spreading 
its  whiteness  over  the  knees  of  the  nurse  of  the 
heroine;  no  sooner  was  the  curtain  up  on  act 
two  than  the  apron  was  discovered  suspended 
round  the  neck  of  the  hero  —  a  simple  valiant 
butcher  boy ;  the  third  act,  by  skilful  manip- 
ulation, used  it  for  a  court  train  at  a  ball ; 
in  the  fourth  it  was  draped  about  a  large  doll 
who  interpreted  the  part  of  a  foundling,  and 
in  the  last  it  framed  the  heroine's  sad  face,  as 
she  droopingly  sought  the  haven  of  a  convent, 
serving  as  wimple  and  as  coif  at  once.  And, 
like  many  stories  of  childhood  and  of  children, 
the  memory  of  that  apron  seems  to  me  less 
an  anecdote  than  a  parable.  It  carries  much 
instruction  for  the  costumer. 

Elaboration  of  detail  and  the  expenditure  of 
large  sums  of  money  are  not  indispensable. 
Out-of-door  plays  may  be  staged  simply  and 
without  much  money.     It  is  not  necessary  to 


142    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

have  an  expensive  stage.  It  may  be  that  the 
Town  Hall  was  built  upon  Doric  lines,  or  that 
some  generous  inhabitant  of  your  village  has  a 
lovely  sloping  orchard  —  they  will  serve  the 
purpose  of  a  setting  for  beauty.  Use  what  is 
at  hand  thoughtfully  and  with  taste :  the 
result  will  be  satisfying. 

It  cannot  be  reiterated  too  often,  "Make  use 
of  what  you  have."  Look  upon  everything  as 
possible  theatrical  material.  There  will  appear 
many  strange  new  lights  upon  old  objects. 
This  advice  is  valuable  not  only  in  the  pro- 
cesses of  production,  but  as  well  in  the  choice 
of  a  theatre,  in  the  selection  of  casts,  and  in 
the  everyday  social  routine  of  the  theatre.  A 
brief  review  of  the  theatres  in  the  Appendix 
will  show  the  variety  of  the  houses  of  play 
which  already  exist :  schoolhouses,  stables, 
the  floor  of  a  loft-building,  and  even  a  converted 
barroom  are  among  them.  Of  the  last  charm- 
ing interior  a  photograph  is  included,  which  is, 
I  think,  suggestive  of  much  that  might  be 
done,  with  its  use  of  old  church  pews,  and 
patchwork  curtain. 

Do  not  overlook  the  usefulness  of  the  thing 


THE   USE   OF  LITTLE   THINGS     143 

that  is  near  you.  Keep  your  productions  sane 
and  reasonable.  Let  them  be  proportionate  to 
the  surroundings.  Do  not  try  to  follow  in 
detail  a  production  of  Henry  the  Eighth  by  Sir 
Herbert  Tree  if  your  stage  is  set  up  shakily 
against  the  rough  timbers  of  a  barn :  think 
rather  of  strolling  players  and  the  simplicity 
of  the  Elizabethan  theatre.  Remember  that 
a  production  is  as  much  an  entity  as  a  sym- 
phonj'^  is :  carefully  eliminate  contrasts  which 
will  bring  in  discords  where  there  should  be 
harmonies. 

But  above  all  it  will  be  the  spirit  of  joy  — 
the  joy  of  creation  —  and  the  inspiration  of 
working  together  which  will  contribute  most 
to  the  beauty  of  the  theatre.  Do  not  let  that 
precious  attribute  escape :  it  is  priceless  above 
emeralds.  With  joy  and  with  cooperation,  it 
is  possible  to  pass  to  the  uttermost  bounds  of 
achievement,  and  the  possession  of  money 
matters  very  little. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Suggestions 

To  harmonize  and  to  create  a  balance  between 
the  social  and  the  artistic  forces  in  the  theatre 
requires  the  most  delicate  manipulation. 
Labor  —  the  privilege  of  service  —  must  be 
so  divided  that  no  one  is  excluded  from  his 
just  proportion.  It  may  be  well  to  consider 
in  turn  the  duties  of  each  oflSce  in  relation  to 
the  other  cogs  in  the  wheel  of  production,  and 
in  relation  to  the  audience-community. 

The  Executive  Committee  is  to  control  the 
general  management.  It  is  composed  of  the 
president,  vice-president,  secretary,  treasurer, 
and  chairman  of  the  Membership  Committee. 
In  the  earlier  days  of  the  theatre,  there  will  be 
more  work  for  the  committee  as  a  whole  than 
when  the  routine  is  established,  for  it  must 
assemble  to  meet  crises,  sudden  demands  of 
this  or  that  party,  to  discuss  the  trials  of  each 
144 


SUGGESTIONS  145 

individual  officer,  and  to  knit  the  tangled 
threads  into  a  smooth  and  pleasant  fabric. 
At  all  times  its  function  will  be  to  untie  knots 
of  executive  policy. 

The  president  is,  of  course,  the  chief  execu- 
tive and  the  presiding  officer,  and  as  such  must 
possess  qualities  of  worth  in  management  and 
in  meeting  people,  tact  and  quick-wittedness, 
directness  of  thought,  and  speed  in  action. 
The  president  should  not  be  an  artist  of  the 
theatre,  primarily ;  nor  is  it,  on  the  other 
hand,  necessary  that  this  officer  be  a  person 
trained  in  one  of  the  social  sciences,  but  rather 
a  person  of  average  administrative  ability 
who  has  been  trained  carefully  in  the  minor 
matters,  and  whose  social  gift  is  somewhat 
unusual.  The  president  should  be  a  person 
who  has  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  the  vote  of 
something  over  the  majority  —  a  good  popular 
candidate.  The  social  gift  and  the  background 
of  training  which  make  the  officer  familiar 
with  the  means  of  production  at  his  command 
are  the  most  salient  characteristics  which  he 
need  possess. 

Unlike  most  vice-presidents,  the  vice-presi- 


146    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

dent  of  our  theatre  is  to  be  a  busy  and  important 
person.  He  works  behind  the  seenes  however. 
Let  him  be  chairman  of  the  greenroom  com- 
mittees. This  is  in  reality  the  position  of 
Chairman  of  Chairmen,  for  under  him  will 
stand  in  turn  the  heads  of  each  individual  unit 
into  which  the  process  of  production  is  divided. 
The  vice-president  will  know  what  money  can 
be  spent  in  the  course  of  the  season  upon  all 
the  branches  of  the  greenroom  work,  he  will 
decide  how  these  sums  are  to  be  allotted,  after 
consultation  with  the  under-chairmen.  He  is 
the  representative  of  the  greenroom  in  the 
Executive  Committee. 

The  secretary  has  obvious  duties,  as  has, 
indeed,  the  treasurer.  In  large  communities 
they  may  be  given  assistants  :  in  small  ones  the 
duties  of  both  may  be  consigned  to  one  person, 
or  combined  with  those  of  the  chairman  of 
the  Membership  Committee.  This  last-named 
official  is  of  vital  importance  to  the  newly- 
established  theatre,  and  should  be  a  perfect 
fusion  of  tact,  advertising  ability,  enthusiasm, 
and  intuition!  He  is  the  sociological  head  of 
the  theatre,  and  in  his  hands  should  be  placed 


SUGGESTIONS  147 

the  authority  to  do  all  that  is  possible  to  en- 
courage the  growth  of  the  membership  list 
until  its  compass  is  the  breadth  of  the  com- 
munity. After  that,  with  the  help  of  an  eflEi- 
cient  committee,  he  should  keep  closely  in 
harmony  with  all  the  members,  acting  as  a 
thermometer  and  a  barometer  for  the  Executive 
Committee,  and  the  producing  staff. 

Of  the  appointed  officers,  the  director  is 
most  important.  In  many  cases,  some  one 
person  with  appropriate  qualifications  will 
stand  in  evident  contrast  to  the  rest  of  the 
community.  However,  when  this  is  not  true, 
the  appointee  should  be  skilled  in  handling 
material,  both  theatric  and  human,  and  should 
have  a  definite  knowledge  of  the  tastes  and 
interests  of  his  audience.  He  should  be  sup- 
ported by  a  committee  of  interested  people, 
with  a  decided  gift  for  the  details  of  actual 
stage  work.  In  the  hands  of  the  director's 
committee  will  rest  the  production  of  plays  and 
the  problems  of  casting,  the  "coaching"  of 
the  actors,  and  the  general  artistic  oversight 
of  the  season. 

The    minor    committees    are    assembled    in 


148    THE   COMINtUNrrY  THEATRE 

ranks  luuler  these  staff  officers.  The  Com- 
mittee  on  Costumes  will  organize  and  arrange 
costumes,  keeping  those  which  are  made  in  a 
suitable  order  and  providing  costumes  for  each 
play  as  it  comes  up  for  consideration.  The 
Committee  on  Make-np  will  assume  the  re- 
sponsibility for  the  wigs  and  the  beards,  will 
apply  rouge  and  powder,  will  become  proficient 
in  the  difficult  manipulation  of  cosmetic. 
Scenery,  lights,  and  properties  —  each  needs 
an  able  corps  for  its  direction. 

The  committees  are  appointed  for  the 
season;  they  work  together  through  a  series 
of  plays.  But  at  the  same  time  there  are 
temporary  committees  which  cooperate  with 
them,  each  serving  for  one  production.  If 
there  are  to  be  six  plays  during  the  season,  there 
are  six  committees,  each  turning  its  attention 
to  one  play.  A  chairman,  with  two  or  three 
assistants,  will  be  sufficient.  These  temporary 
executives  work  in  direct  connection  with  the 
member  of  the  director's  committee  who  is 
staging  the  play ;  they  call  upon  the  permanent 
committees  for  assistance  and  for  advice. 

When  the  temporary  chairmen   are   chosen 


SUGGESTIONS  149 

by  the  Executive  Committee,  the  most  careful 
attention  shoukl  be  paid  to  the  advice  of  the 
chairman  of  Membership.  It  will  be  well  in 
choosing  them  to  take  prominent  persons  from 
every  faction  of  the  community  life  and  to 
select  them  with  attention  to  many  matters 
beside  a  gift  for  the  theatre.  This  serves  an 
obvious  social  purpose,  the  programme  will  in- 
terest one  and  then  another  subdivision  of  the 
audience  as  a  whole  —  the  season  w^ill  belong 
to  the  entire  community. 

The  choice  of  plays  demands  the  careful 
attention  not  only  of  a  Play-Reading  Com- 
mittee, but  of  every  one  connected  with  the 
enterprise.  Some  one  has  wisely  said  that 
Broadway  needs  play  readers  no  longer  be- 
cause even  the  office  boys  are  reading  plays. 
In  the  community  theatre  it  will  be  regrettable 
if  half  the  audience  is  not  discovering  plays  for 
production.  WHiile  the  theatre  is  a  small 
group,  this  assistance  will  be  all  that  the 
director  and  his  committ(^e  require,  but  when 
the  intricacies  of  stage  direction  are  multiplied 
by  the  augmentation  of  the  theatre's  size,  the 
buffer    value    of    the   Play-Reading    Committee 


150    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

becomes  instantly  apparent.  By  the  time  the 
membership  has  reached,  say  three  hundred, 
there  will  be  need  of  a  committee,  constantly 
reading,  wandering  up  and  down  the  world 
in  search  of  new  material.  They  serve  as  the 
beaters  in  an  Indian  hunt,  to  rouse  the  quarry. 
It  is  the  duty  of  the  director  and  his  com- 
mittee to  act  the  part  of  the  sportsman  whose 
shot  commits  them  to  production. 

In  the  Appendix  is  a  list  containing  several 
books  which  will  be  of  help  in  planning  balanced 
programmes,  or  which  will  offer  fields  of  forage 
for  those  who  are  unaccustomed  to  play  reading. 
More  than  that,  the  Drama  League  has  much 
to  say  about  courses  in  reading  and  the  study 
of  the  drama.  These  matters  will  fall  naturally 
under  the  direction  of  the  Play  C&mmittee: 
courses  in  the  history  and  technique  of  the 
drama  will  stimulate  an  interest  in  the  literary 
value  of  the  theatre.  Such  a  branch  of  the 
theatre's  work  might  well  be  intrusted  to  the 
Play-Reading  Committee. 

The  difficult  task  of  assigning  parts  —  the 
casting  of  plays  —  falls,  in  the  last  analysis, 
to  the  director.     He  is  of  course  open  to  sugges- 


SUGGESTIONS  151 

tion.  And  in  several  well  conducted  theatres 
it  has  been  found  that  a  system  of  trials  is 
more  productive  of  good  actors  than  any  other 
method  of  filling  the  parts.  At  Montclair, 
where  the  democratic  note  is  vibrant,  the 
candidates  are  tried  more  or  less  publicly.  Mr. 
Harold  Howland  writes : 

One  of  the  trial  evenings  of  the  Players  is 
an  attractive  occasion.  Twenty-five  or  thirty 
persons  sit  round  informally  —  the  Producing 
Committee,  the  producer  of  the  Play,  candi- 
dates, members  of  the  General  Committee.  A 
makeshift  scene  is  sketched  in  with  random 
tables  and  chairs  and  what  not.  Two  or  three 
at  a  time  the  aspiring  players  read  short  scenes 
from  the  play  as  directed  by  the  producers. 
Sometimes  the  logical  players  for  certain 
parts  are  apparent  without  extended  hearing. 
Sometimes  the  casting  of  a  single  part  requires 
many  trials  and  even  the  combing  of  the 
community  for  the  right  material.  But  the 
democratic  free-for-all  method  seems  to  work. 
Splendid  material  appears  from  unexpected 
and  unknown  quarters.  .  .  . 

The  method  of  trying  candidates  for  each 
play,  although  undoubtedly  superior  to  that  of 
casting  by  guess  or  by  fancy,  has  several  draw- 
backs.    It  concentrates  competition :    tliere  is 


152    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

the  danger  of  hard  feehng  between  the  winner 
and  the  loser.  It  takes  much  time :  the 
committees  must  try  all  comers,  and  some  of 
them  will  be  those  who  have  "tried"  for  every 
part  in  the  history  of  the  theatre.  More- 
over, very  talented  persons  must  be  dragged 
out  to  go  through  the  routine  with  every  one. 
It  was  to  offset  such  economic  waste  and 
such  friction  that  during  my  own  direction 
of  an  unimportant  organization,  I  instituted 
annual  trials.  A  certain  time  was  set  aside 
for  all  people  who  wished  to  act  to  appear 
before  the  judges :  scenes  from  standard  plays 
which  had  variety  and  range  were  designated : 
the  judges  were  given  pencils  and  slips  of  paper. 
Then  in  careful  order,  sets  of  two  or  three  would- 
be  actors  came  and  played  their  scenes.  The 
most  assiduous  notes  were  made  upon  each 
performance :  the  judges  consulted  together, 
and  a  list  was  made  in  which  the  limitations 
and  possibilities  of  each  performer  were  set 
forth  for  future  use.  This  list  was  to  provide 
the  casts  for  the  season's  productions. 

The  concentration  of  examining  the  actors 
eliminates  the  need  for  repeated  trials  whenever 


SUGGESTIONS  153 

a  new  cast  is  necessary  during  the  busy  season ; 
but  it  will  be  well  to  announce  fresh  ones  to 
reinforce  the  first,  as  new  material  arises 
quickly,  and  the  list  should  be  kept  vital. 
This  list  is  the  community  theatre's  Stock 
Company.  From  it  —  however  large  it  may 
be  —  the  director  should  choose  as  many  actors 
as  possible  during  the  year.  In  the  ideal 
community  theatre,  every  one  would  be  given 
a  chance  to  try  everything  which  he  wished 
to  do  :  in  that  striving  limited  human  version 
which  we  are  forced  to  organize,  it  is  possible 
to  approach  the  ideal  from  afar.  A  girl  who 
has  nothing  to  recommend  her  to  the  audience 
except  a  desire  to  play  Ophelia  cannot,  ob- 
viously, be  put  into  such  a  part.  But  she  can 
be  studied  and  slipped  into  a  tiny  place  some- 
where :  she  can  be  given  the  satisfaction  of 
feeling  that  she  has  played  one  part :  with 
proper  training  she  may  even  come  to  larger 
ones.  There  is  a  story,  nmch-repeated,  that 
one  of  the  most  famous  of  our  musicians  was 
urged,  as  a  girl,  to  stop  singing  because  she 
had  no  voice. 

The   sketch    permitted    by   this    brief   space 


154    THE   COMIVIUNITY  THEATRE 

can  do  little  but  outline  possible  courses  of 
action.  Every  facet  of  the  theatrical  gem  may 
have  unlimited  attention.  The  Music  Com- 
mittee advises  and  provides  music :  the  artists 
are  gathered  into  a  studio  group :  workshop 
opportunities  are  endless.  A  large  theatre 
may  have  a  library ;  even  the  smallest  will 
find  a  bookshop  useful  in  which  to  offer  for 
sale  plays  old  and  new  during  the  performances. 
The  acting  may  be  regulated  by  a  Trials  Com- 
mittee: when  the  first  agony  of  showing  what 
they  can  and  what  they  cannot  do  is  over, 
let  such  a  committee  seize  the  aspiring  actors 
and  give  them  direction  in  diction,  lessons  in 
dancing,  or  courses  in  pantomime  and  inter- 
pretation. It  is  possible  to  elaborate  the 
edifice  endlessly. 

The  progress  of  a  play  through  the  channels 
of  this  complicated  machinery  would  happen 
somewhat  after  this  fashion.  At  the  com- 
mencement of  the  season,  the  president  would 
notify  some  prominent  person  that  he  was 
to  have  charge  of  the  fifth  production.  The 
date  of  his  production  assigned,  he  would  be 
asked  to  consider  and  to  submit  plays.     Mean- 


SUGGESTIONS  155 

time,  the  director  with  his  committee  and  the 
Play  Committee  would  also  be  reading. 

A  week  before  the  time  for  rehearsals  to 
begin,  the  manager  would  be  invited  to  meet  the 
Director's  Committee.  In  this  meeting  as  much 
consideration  as  seemed  compatible  with  the 
general  policy  of  the  year  would  be  shown  his 
desires ;  he  would  be  consulted  in  matters  of 
the  play,  the  cast,  and  the  selection  of  artistic 
advisers.  But  in  the  final  instance,  questions 
must  be  decided  by  the  director. 

Rehearsal  of  the  play  would  be  put  into  the 
hands  of  the  director's  assistant,  a  member  of 
the  committee  to  whom  the  production  came 
in  rotation.  He  will  assume  responsibility : 
he  will  discuss  the  play  with  the  director :  he 
will  be  allowed  great  freedom  in  his  control, 
and  will  be  led  rather  than  directed. 

The  cast  will  be  selected  from  the  acting 
list.  It  may  be  that  one  part  or  another  can- 
not be  decided :  trials  for  that  part  will  be 
privately  provided  to  decide  it.  The  cast 
will  assemble,  and  the  play  will  be  read  to  them. 
Certain  large  lines  of  its  form  will  be  suggested. 
Then  they  will  be  expected  to  study,  and  at 


156     THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

first  the  director's  assistant  will  allow  them 
great  liberty  in  working  out  their  own  ideas, 
cutting  out  only  those  conceptions  which 
make  a  blatant  disharmony  with  the  whole. 

The  rehearsing  of  the  play  may  be  done  in 
several  ways.  Every  director  has  his  own 
methods.  But  two  things  are  important :  the 
director-in-chief  should  be  the  court  of  last 
resort,  and  the  director's  assistant  in  charge 
should  be  given  great  freedom.  It  is  unwise 
to  allow  promiscuous  suggestion  from  whoso- 
ever happens  to  be  present  at  a  rehearsal. 
All  directions  should  come  through  the  person 
in  command. 

As  the  play  progresses,  the  manager  and  his 
committee  consult  the  branches  of  greenroom 
direction.  Costumes,  scenery,  and  lighting 
must  be  thoroughly  discussed :  experiments 
must  be  made.  If  the  closets  do  not  contain 
the  proper  material  to  twist  into  use,  the  studio 
department  will  be  called  into  play.  So  it 
goes.  On  the  day  of  dress  rehearsal,  all  the 
departments  will  be  assembled  with  pencil 
and  with  pads,  to  jot  down  suggestions  for  the 
director. 


SUGGESTIONS  157 

And  when  the  premiere,  the  first  night,  the 
production  actually  arrives,  the  signal  which 
darkens  the  auditorium  and  sets  the  curtain 
in  slow  motion  is  like  a  lever  which  releases  a 
steady,  efficient  machine.  Everywhere  each 
tiny  part  slips  into  action.  There  are  mem- 
bers who  sit  in  quiet  corners,  waiting  for  a 
chance  to  do  some  inconspicuous  service  with 
the  same  eager  keenness  that  shines  on  the 
heroine's  delicately  rouged  face.  And  across 
the  wholly  eradicated  line  of  the  footlights, 
there  comes  a  whisper  of  sweetness,  which  is 
the  fragrance  of  fellowship. 


CHAPTER  XII 

The  Theatrical  Renaissance 

The  enthusiast  and  the  sluggard  are  equally 
susceptible  to  the  human  failing  of  impatience : 
the  seer  of  visions,  beholding  his  dream  afar 
off,  chafes  at  the  stretch  between  himself  and 
his  accomplishment :  the  disbeliever  cannot 
look  beyond  present  imperfection. 

(  The  community  theatre  will  suffer  both  from 
those  who  believe  in  it  too  much  and  from  those 
who  have  too  little  faith  in  its  power. )  As  an 
ideal  it  will  satisfy :  it  offers  to  the  community 
the  common  interest  which  is  lacking,  and  to  the 
arts  of  the  theatre  it  offers  a  permanent  home^ 
The  community  will  have  an  interest  wide 
enough  to  include  all  its  members  and  yet  deep 
enough  to  hold  them  all.  The  theatre  arts  will 
find  a  place  to  expand  and  to  grow. 

But  the  practical  application  of  the  ideals  of 
democracy   to    the   theatre   as   an    institution 
158 


THE   THEATRICAL  RENAISSANCE     159 

means  very  distinct  limitations.  ^  The  ideal  is 
not  that  of  a  connoisseur :  it  is  the  joyous  ideal 
of  a  creator.  The  art  which  will  be  produced 
by  a  theatre  so  governed  and  so  manned  with 
artists  will  be  the  tiny  acorn  of  art  from  which 
the  oak  tree  will  not  come  except  by  a  process 
of  slow  growth. 

The  working  of  the  community  theatre  must 
be  attended  with  faith  and  with  no  discourage- 
ment. Friction  is  bcund  to  arise,  friction  which 
seems  about  to  prevent  the  accomplishment 
even  of  the  most  minor  ends.  But  with  faith 
and  courage,  such  friction  can  be  turned  into 
power  and  made  to  propel  the  machine. 

It  would  be  madness  to  expect  that  because 
a  theatre  is  established  in  a  community,  it 
would  instantly  begin  to  produce  art  which 
would  rival  in  beauty  and  in  technique  the  art 
which  has  acquired  its  richness  through  genera- 
tions of  tradition.  The  first  struggles  of  the 
average  community  theatre  will  not  compare  in 
ease  of  expression  with  the  theatre  as  we  know 
it.  They  will  be  fantastic  and  often  grotesque 
to  a  trained  eye  and  ear.  But  if  they  have  a 
sincere  foundation   and   if  they  cling  to  their 


160    THE   COMMUNITY  THEATRE 

naivete,  there  is  no  limit  to  be  put  upon  their 
ultimate  achievement. 

For  this  reason,  the  community  theatre 
carries  a  promise  to  the  theatre  as  an  art,  which 
is  not  equalled,  I  think,  by  any  other  possible 
theatrical  ideal.  The  arts  in  the  theatre  are 
given  every  opportunity.  The  new  forces  of 
art  which  the  theatre  has  so  recently  been  feel- 
ing, are  given  a  twofold  reinforcement.  The 
community  theatre  spreads  news  of  them  to 
every  member  of  the  theatre :  it  creates  an 
audience  which  not  only  understands  art,  but 
which  comes  clamoring  for  the  gifts  of  art; 
and  it  takes  away  from  the  theatre  the  danger 
—  the  stultification  and  oblivion  —  which 
hangs  over  it  now  upon  its  present  commer- 
cial and  speculative  basis. 

The  renaissance  of  the  theatre  in  our  time 
has  long  since  begun  to  affect  us.  The  stirring 
of  fresh  life  is  evident  in  each  new  theatrical 
production  upon  Broadway  :  it  does  not  neglect 
the  smallest  stock  house  in  the  country.  We 
are  obliged  to  acknowledge  its  existence  and 
its  vitality ;  we  are  glad  to  recognize  that  the 
art   is   assuming   control.     And   how   may   we 


THE   THEATRICAL  RENAISSANCE     161 

best  help  that  tremendous  achievement  to  its 
fullest  growth  ? 

In  answer  to  this  question  I  have  submitted 
these  outlines  for  the  community  theatre,  a 
house  of  flay  in  which  events  offer  to  every 
member  of  a  body  politic  active  participation 
in  a  common  interest.  It  is  not  to  be  judged 
as  the  full-blown  flower  of  art :  it  is  not  even  a 
bud  about  to  open.  Rather  it  might  be  called 
the  soil  —  fertile  and  fragrant  —  in  which  the 
seed  is  to  be  sown.  The  infant  art  of  the  theatre 
is  to  be  rocked  in  this  cradle. 

And  may  we  not  hope  that  if  it  has  the  in- 
terest of  the  community,  the  growing  taste  and 
curiosity  of  its  audience,  combined  with  a 
group  of  artists  whose  lives  have  been  freed 
from  the  canker  of  distrust  and  the  fester  of 
the  desire  for  gain,  may  we  not  hope  that  the 
theatre  of  the  community  will,  as  it  develops 
new  strength,  bring  new  art  forms  and  new 
vigor  into  the  art  of  the  theatre?  This  gift 
would  be  the  final  achievement  towards  which 
we  must  labor  in  the  Theatre  of  Democracy. 


APPENDIX^ 

The  list  of  theatres  which  follows  will  indicate  in 
part  the  variety  and  vitality  of  the  new  theatrical 
enthusiasm.  It  can  do  little  more.  At  this  moment 
when  fresh  ventures  are  being  made  in  untried 
fields  every  day,  such  a  list  must  fall  far  short  of 
completeness.  In  the  comment  there  has  been  no 
attempt  at  criticism  and  no  effort  to  classify  either 
the  output  or  the  organization.  The  notes  have 
been  chiefly  compiled  from  the  statement  of  some 
member  of  each  theatre's  staff. 

BALTIMORE,    MARYLAND 

The  Vagabond  Players 

Organized  in  191G  by  Mrs.  Nathan  and  Mr.  Sax 
to  produce  new  works  by  iVmerican  authors  and 
important  plays  by  foreign  writers  which  would  not 
otherwise  be  seen  in  Baltimore.  The  theatre  is  a 
converted  barroom  (see  photograph)  seating  sixty- 
two  people.     The  organization  is  supported  by  sub- 

^  List  is  alpliubelical. 
1G3 


164  APPENDIX 

scriptions  and  gives  pcrforniaiiccs  twice  a  week,  pre- 
senting three  one-act  plays  a  month  for  five  months. 
These  plays  are  selected  by  a  committee  of  five 
members  and  acted  by  casts  chosen  by  tri^l  from  all 
interested  persons,  under  the  direction  of  Mrs. 
Nathan  and  Mr.  Sax.     All  services  are  given. 

BERKELEY,   CALIFORNIA 

Greek  Theatre 

An  out-of-door  theatre  which  follows  Greek  lines 
in  its  design.  Is  in  close  association  with  the  Uni- 
versity of  California.  Professional  performances 
are  often  given  there  beside  notable  productions  by 
the  students  of  the  university. 

BETHEL.   MAINE 

A  converted  stable  which  is  at  the  service  of  all 
the  community  who  wish  to  join  in  theatrical  work. 
Seats  one  hundred  fifty  people  and  has  a  comfortable 
stage.  Under  the  direction  of  Miss  Schornle  of  Cin- 
cinnati, and  the  patronage  of  Mr.  W.  J.  Upson. 

BLL^  HILL,   MAINE 

A  private  open-air  theatrical  stage  cut  out  of  the 
rock,  with  the  lovely  peak  of  Blue  Hill  towering 
over  it. 


APPENDIX  165 

BOSTON,   MASSACHUSETTS 

Toy  Theatre 

A  group  of  amateurs  who  carried  on  interesting 
experiments  in  production  in  a  tiny  theatre  made 
from  a  stable.  When  the  subscribers  grew  numerous, 
an  attempt  was  made  to  build  a  larger  theatre  and 
move  into  it,  but  the  theatre  is  now  occupied  by  a 
stock  company,  and  the  Toy  organization  no  longer 
exists.     Founded  1910.     Closed  1915. 

BROOKLYN,   NEW  YORK 

Community  Theatre 

Organized  in  1917  by  Henry  B.  Stillman,  for  the 
common  use,  pleasure,  and  instruction  of  the  com- 
munity. A  company  of  professional  actors  under 
an  experienced  director.  Aim  is  to  establish  a  per- 
manent self-supporting  repertory  company.  Sup- 
ported partly  by  subscribers. 

CAMBRIDGE,   MASSACHUSETTS 

The  47  Workshop 

Founded  in  1914  by  Professor  George  Pierce  Baker 
to  give  a  hearing  at  Harvard  University  and  Radcliffe 
College  to  any  one  who  has  something  interesting  to 
offer  in  the  theatrical  arts.  Plays  are  chosen  by  Mr. 
Baker  with  the  approval  of  the  Executive  Committee, 


166  APPENDIX 

and  cast  by  them  from  a  company  of  players  who 
have  been  tested  in  former  plays  reinforced  by  less 
experienced  actors.  The  audience  consists  of  people 
deeply  interested  in  the  arts  of  the  theatre,  willing 
to  cooperate  with  the  work,  at  least  financially; 
it  is  limited  to  four  hundred  by  the  lack  of  accommo- 
dation :  new  members  are  proposed  and  seconded 
by  old  ones.  The  aiidience  is  required  to  send  in 
a  written  criticism  of  the  performance,  from  which 
the  names  are  removed  before  submitting  them  to 
the  author  and  workers.  This  device  proves  satis- 
factory and  helpful.  The  theatre  is  the  inadequate 
Idler  Theatre  of  Radcliffe  College. 

CARMEL-BY-THE-SEA,  CALIFORNIA 

Forest  Theatre  Society 

First  production  in  1910  was  due  to  the  efforts  of 
literary  people  in  Carmel.  The  theatre  is  an  outdoor 
one.  The  society  is  supported  by  its  members  and 
assisted  by  the  business  men  of  the  town.  Mem- 
bership is  unlimited  :  fee  one  dollar  a  year.  Under 
the  direction  of  a  council  of  fifteen  members  who  are 
elected  annually.  This  council  chooses  plays,  and  the 
director  is  appointed  by  them.  There  are  standing 
committees  on  Plays,  Costumes,  Finance,  Member- 
ship, Programmes,  and  Publicity.  The  plays  pro- 
duced are  original  —  unacted  —  in  so  far  as  is  pos- 
sible,   and    often    written    by    local    playwrights. 


APPENDIX  167 

The   production  of  an   annual   Children's   Play  is 
a  feature  of  the  programme. 

CHICAGO,   ILLINOIS 

The  Hull  House  Players 

The  dramatic  group  of  the  Hull  House  Settlement, 
which  came  originally,  INIiss  Addams  tells  us  in  her 
history  of  Hull  House,  from  the  inspiration  of  the 
Passion  Play  at  Oberammergau.  Its  audience  is 
made  up  of  the  settlement  people  and  of  interested 
outsiders ;  the  company  is  chiefly  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, under  the  direction  of  Laura  Dainty  Pel- 
ham.  Has  produced  many  interesting  sociological 
plays. 

CHICAGO,   ILLINOIS 

The  Little  Theatre 

Founded  1909.  Has  produced  every  kind  of  play 
under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Maurice  Browne.  Has 
lately  received  an  endowment, 

CHICAGO,    ILLINOIS 

The  Players  Workshop 

An  experimental  theatre  where  ideas  may  be 
worked  out  in  practice.  It  gives  plays  by  Chicago 
writers    oiily,    and    nothing    but   first    productions. 


168  APPENDIX 

Each  programme  is  played  for  six  nights  in  one  week. 
The  settings  and  costumes  are  designed  and  made  in 
the  studio  of  the  organization. 

CINCINNATI.  OHIO 

Little  Playhouse  Company 

Founded  by  Mrs.  Helen  Schuster-Martin.  Pro- 
duces unusual  plays.  Seeks  to  become  a  community 
venture.  Company  is  part  professional,  on  nominal 
salaries. 

CONTOOCOOK,   NEW  HAMPSHIRE 

The  Putney  Hill  Improvement  Society,  organized 
for  the  betterment  of  rural  conditions,  has  a  theatri- 
cal department.  The  theatre  is  a  converted  disused 
schoolhouse  which  holds  one  hundred  twenty-five 
people.  A  committee  is  chosen  to  manage  each  pro- 
duction. 

DETROIT,   MICHIGAN 

Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre 

Has  just  finished  its  first  season  —  an  artistic 
achievement  of  note,  imder  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Sam  Hume.  Subscribers,  who  are  represented  in 
the  management  by  an  advisory  committee,  support 
it.  Its  purpose  is  defined  as  "entertainment  and 
art"  but  it  seeks  to  express  the  spirit  of  the  locality 
by  producing  plays  written  there. 


APPENDIX  169 

FARGO,   NORTH  DAKOTA 

Little  Country  Theatre 

An  organization  of  amateurs  under  the  leadership 
of  Mr.  Alfred  Arvold  and  connected  closely  with  the 
extension  work  of  the  Agricultural  College.  It  gives, 
among  other  plays,  those  of  pioneer  life  which  are 
most  suited  to  the  country  audiences  for  which  it  is 
organized.  The  company  shifts  from  one  commu- 
nity to  another.  A  department  of  dramatic  literature 
is  also  part  of  the  work,  and  there  is  a  valuable  loan 
dramatic  library.  The  theatre  is  a  remodelled 
chapel.  The  effects  have  spread  to  South  Dakota, 
Montana  and  Iowa. 

GALESBURG.   ILLINOIS 

Little  Prairie  Playhouse 

During  the  past  season  has  produced  monthly 
programmes  of  long  and  short  plays  of  a  serious 
nature,  among  them  an  original  play  by  the 
director,  Mr.  J.  A.  Crafton. 

INDIANAPOLIS,   INDIANA 

Little  Theatre  Society  of  Indiana 

Organized  in  February,  1015,  at  the  suggestion  of 
Professor  William  Jenkins.  Affiliated  with  the  local 
Drama  Ix^ague.     Has  no  theatre.     Work  of  an  ex- 


170  APPENDIX 

perimental  nature,  not  always  under  a  professional 
director.  Objects  are  "the  experimental  and  reper- 
tory presentation  of  both  approved  and  untried 
dramatic  works,  and  the  development  of  the  re- 
sources of  the  community  in  the  creation  and  in- 
terpretation of  vital  and  artistic  plays."  Member- 
ship of  three  classes  by  which  association  is  chiefly 
financed.  But  performances  are  open  to  the  public, 
and  the  players  need  not  be  members  of  the  society. 
(The  coming  season  may  see  a  limitation  of  this 
policy.) 

LAKE    FOREST.  ILLINOIS 

Lake  Forest  Players 

Organized  by  Mrs.  Arthur  Aldis  for  the  pleasure 
of  the  players  and  their  friends,  as  an  experiment 
and  an  adventure.  The  theatre  is  a  converted 
wooden  house.  In  its  seventh  season,  which 
covers  the  summer  months. 

LOS  ANGELES.   CALIFORNIA 

Little  Theatre 

Control  was  assumed  in  1916  by  Miss  Aline 
Barnsdall  and  the  Players  Producing  Company. 
Mr.  Richard  Ordynski  made  several  productions 
during  the  season  191C-1917.  The  theatre  will 
reopen  in  1917-1918  under  the  Player  Producing 
Company. 


APPENDIX  171 

MILWAUKEE,   WISCONSIN ; 

The  Little  Theatre  of  Milwaukee 

Founded  in  1912  to  provide  good  dramatic  fare 
for  Milwaukee,  and  in  its  present  policy  aims  to 
follow  the  New  Free  Folk  Stage  in  Berlin.  Theatre 
seats  one  hundred  fifty.  Membership  unlimited ; 
dues  three  dollars  a  year.  Conducts  an  open-air 
theatre  in  summer,  and  opens  its  doors  to  all  Chil- 
dren's Players  beside  giving  plays  for  children. 
The  director-producer  is  assisted  by  an  advisory 
board  of  prominent  persons.  Plays  are  acted  by 
amateurs  :  services  are  all  given.  Under  the  direc- 
tion of  Mrs.  Edith  Adams  Stewart. 

MILWAUKEE,   WISCONSIN 

The  Wisconsin  Players 

Organized  as  the  Wisconsin  Dramatic  Society  and 
Players  with  a  purpose  akin  to  that  of  the  Abbey 
Theatre  in  Dublin.  Two  years  ago  it  abandoned 
its  branch  in  Madison,  which  had  formed  an  "ex- 
change company"  up  to  that  time.  Has  a  theatre, 
conducts  a  workshop  to  encourage  experiment  in 
the  arts  of  the  theatre.  Membership  open  to  all  who 
are  interested.  Dues  include  all  the  activities  of  the 
society.  Non-members  admitted  to  plays.  Origi- 
nally under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Thomas  Dickinson, 
now  directed  by  Mrs.  Laura  Sherry. 


172  APPENDIX 

MONTCLAIR,  NEW  JERSEY 

MoNTCLAiB  Platers 

Open  to  the  entire  community.  Dues  fifty  cents 
a  year :  tickets  for  individual  performances  sell  at 
twenty-five  cents.  Players  chosen  from  the  com- 
munity by  competition.  Direction  and  production 
by  members.  Executive  Committee  select  plays. 
High  School  used  as  theatre.  First  season  has 
roused  great  enthusiasm. 

MOUNT  TAMALPAIS,   CALIFORNIA 

The  Mountain  Plat 

Founded  in  1913,  since  which  time  there  have  been 
annual  productions.  The  original  owner,  Mr.  Wil- 
liam Kent,  deeded  the  amphitheatre  to  the  trustees 
to  be  held  forever  for  The  Mountain  Play.  Visitors 
are  urged  to  spend  the  day  upon  the  Mountain,  and 
thousands  take  advantage  of  the  invitation  every 
year.  The  earliest  play  was  acted  by  students  from 
the  University  of  California. 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

Bramhall  Platers 

A  professional  company  under  the  direction  of 
Mr.  Butler  Davenport,  who  is  the  author  of  some 
of  their  plays  as  well.     Opened  in  1916. 


APPENDIX  173 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

Community  Chorus 

Organized  by  Harry  Barnhart,  Director,  January 
6,  1916.  Has  sung  every  week  since  its  organization 
and  has  invited  everybody  freely  to  sing  with  it. 
Holds  "Sings"  in  Central  Park  every  Sunday  after- 
noon with  from  five  to  ten  thousand  persons  present, 
besides  producing  such  choruses  as  Handel's  Messiah 
and  Haydn's  Creation  with  from  one  to  two  thousand 
voices. 

(Not  a  Theatre,  yet  important  to  the  Theatre.) 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

The  GiiAMMERCY  Players 

An  organization  announced  to  open  in  1917-1918, 
under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Edwin  Hopkins. 

NEW  YORK   CITY 

Greenwich  Village  Theatre 

Announced. 

"No  set  policy  will  be  adhered  to  regarding  the 
length  of  plays  presented  .  .  .  plays  by  the  more 
important  European  dramatists  .  .  .  particular  at- 
tention to  the  younger  American  playwrights  .  .  . 
an  occasional  classical  play  revived.  A  company  of 
professionals  who  are  amateurs  in  the  sense  that 


174  APPENDIX 

they  love  acting  as  an  art  and  are  willing  to  forsake 
the  commercial  theatre  with  its  long  runs  and  set 
methods  in  order  to  do  good  work." 

(From  the  Advance  Announcement) 

Is  to  include  also  Sunday  evening  concerts  and  will 
present  to  the  public  unusual  artists  —  musicians 
and  dancers  —  some  of  a  type  whose  art  would  be 
lost  in  a  large  concert  hall. 

Another  activity  is  to  be  "conferences"  —  not 
stereotyped  lectures,  but  talks  in  which  the  audience 
takes  part.  Besides,  it  plans  to  hold  art  exhibitions 
so  that  younger  men  may  be  given  a  chance  to 
exhibit. 

'  NEW  YORK  CITY 

The  Marionette  Theatre 

A  fairy  tale  theatre  for  children  which  has  its  head- 
quarters at  Richmond  Hill  House,  28  Macdougal 
Street,  under  the  direction  of  Remo  Bufano. 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

MORNINGSIDE   PlAYERS 

Organized  in  the  season  1916-1917  by  Mr,  Hatcher 
Hughes  of  Columbia  University  together  with  several 
of  his  pupils.  Includes  Mr,  Clayton  Hamilton  and 
Mr,  Barrett  Clark  on  its  executive  force.  The 
membership  is  not  limited  to  those  interested  people 
who  are  actually  connected  with  the  University  .  .  . 


APPENDIX  175 

any  one  offering  his  services  as  actor,  manager, 
playwright,  or  producer  is  ehgible.  The  two  pro- 
ductions last  season  were  made  in  the  Comedy 
Theatre :  the  organization  has  no  home  and  no  spe- 
cific audience. 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

Neighborhood  Playhouse 

The  developed  dramatic  classes  of  the  Henry 
Street  Settlement  beautifully  housed  in  the  theatre 
which  was  the  gift  of  the  Misses  Lewisohn.  Pro- 
duces Jewish  Festival  Flays,  short  and  long  plays  of 
every  description,  and  is  constantly  responsible  for 
the  introduction  of  good  professional  companies  to 
Grand  Street.  The  artistic  staff  is  an  excellent  one 
and  the  resident  actors  skilled  amateurs.  Its  work 
is  constantly  varied  and  interesting.  The  manage- 
ment of  the  theatre  is  in  the  hands  of  a  board  of 
management :  the  audience  is  primarily  drawn  from 
the  neighborliood  of  the  Lower  East  Side;  but  all 
New  York  wanders  in  from  time  to  time. 

The  theatre  was  built  in  1914 :  before  that  time 
productions  had  been  made  in  a  near-by  hall. 

NEW  YORK   CITY 

The  Playhouse 

In  1915-1916  Miss  Grace  George  established  a 
repertory  company  in  The  Playhouse,  producing  a 


176  APPENDIX 

new  play  every  month  in  the  face  of  the  continued 
success  of  each  new  'production,  which  would  have 
enabled  a  lazy  manager  to  fall  into  the  "  long  run  " 
habit.  The  announcement  has  just  been  made 
that  the  theatre  is  to  be  reopened  for  the  season 
1917-1918. 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

Portmanteau  Theatre 

(Not  in  the  strict  sense  a  social  theatre,  since  it 
does  not  limit  itself  in  any  way  by  direct  connection 
with  any  audience;  it  is,  however,  of  vital  importance 
because  its  ingenuity  and  its  simplicity  may  lead  to 
the  accomplishment  of  almost  any  ends.) 

Mr.  Stuart  Walker's  complete  theatrical  stage, 
which  can  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  at  a  moment's 
notice.  It  requires  a  room  sixteen  and  one  half 
feet  high,  twenty  feet  long,  and  forty  feet  wide. 
The  company  is  a  repertory  company  made  up  of 
talented  young  professional  actors  who  regard 
acting  as  an  art.  The  artistic  staff  is  unusually 
gifted  and  efficient. 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

Pbovincetown  Flayers 

Called  "The  Playwrights'  Theatre."  An  experi- 
mental theatre  which  began  at  Provincetown,  Mass- 
achusetts, when  a  group  of  authors  interested  in 


APPENDIX  177 

dramatic  writing  gathered  there  for  two  consecutive 
summers.  In  the  summer  of  1915  this  group  made 
their  first  productions.  In  1916  they  moved  into  the 
Wharf  Theatre.  In  the  winter  of  1916  the  first  New 
York  productions  were  undertaken.  Tickets  are 
sold  only  to  subscribers,  and  the  membership  is  so 
much  in  demand  that  many  season-subscribers  were 
refused  last  year.  Plays  are  written  and  produced 
by  the  active  members  :  services  are  free  with  the  ex- 
ception of  two  oflBcers  who  give  all  their  time  to  the 
management. 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

Washington  Square  Players 

Originally  a  group  of  interested  non-professional 
people  who  began  acting  for  their  own  amusement 
and  have  progressed  to  the  Bandbox  Theatre  for  a 
much  talked-of  season  (1915-1916)  and  have  followed 
it  by  meeting  Broadway  upon  its  own  ground  in  the 
Comedy  Theatre  (1916-1917).  They  have  done 
many  interesting  and  some  startling  plays. 

NEW  YORK   CITY 

The  Theatre  Workshop 

Organized  in  November,  1916,  for  the  purpose  of 
centralizing  the  various  creative  interests  of  the 
theatre  for  their  mutual  inspiration  and  for  the 
non-commercial  enlargement  of  their  opportunities. 


178  APPENDIX 

Has  among  its  departments,  Playfinding  Committee, 
Associate  Players,  Production  Department,  Stars 
and  Directors,  and  an  Extension  by  which  plays 
may  be  sent  with  good  casts  to  schools  or  towns 
desiring  them.  Depends  upon  subscription  for 
support. 

NORTHAMPTON.  MASSACHUSETTS 

Northampton  Piatbbs 

A  professional  company  which  is  somewhat  re- 
sponsible to  the  town  for  the  success  or  failure  of  its 
productions.  Organized  in  1910.  Under  the  direc- 
tion of  Mr.  Bertram  Harrison. 

ORANGE,  NEW  JERSEY 

Blythelea  Flayers 

An  amateur  organization  following  the  lines  of  a 
club,  which  has  a  theatre  in  Llewellyn  Park  on  the 
estate  of  Mrs.  C.  C.  Goodrich.  The  theatre  is 
remodelled  from  a  stable  and  carriage  house,  and  is 
furnished  with  many  conveniences  such  as  a  dome 
for  lighting  and  an  otherwise  adequately  equipped 
stage.  Plays  are  produced  for  members  and  their 
guests,  and  then  are  repeated  for  some  charity. 
The  work  is  all  voluntary  and  is  under  the  di- 
rection of  Mr.  Howard  Greenley,  the  architect  of 
the  theatre. 


APPENDIX  179 

PETERBOROUGH,   NEW  HAMPSHIRE 

The  Edward  MacDowell  Memorial  Society  has 
made  a  habit,  since  the  year  1911,  of  producing  a 
Festival  upon  a  beautiful  outdoor  stage  on  the 
MacDowell  estate.  The  colony  of  artists  which 
assembles  there  for  the  summer  has  given  its  services, 
and  the  village  has  an  excellent  choral  organization. 
Mrs.  Edward  MacDowell  is  the  moving  spirit  of  the 
group. 

PITTSBURGH,   PENNSYLVANIA 

Pittsburgh  Theatre  Association 

In  its  first  season.  Hopes  to  develop  into  a  per- 
manent art  theatre.  Under  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Thomas  H.  Dickinson. 

PITTSFIELD,   MASSACHUSETTS 

Pittsfield  Theatre 

A  stock  company  which  is  supported  by  interested 
townspeople  who  own  stock  and  control  the  policy 
to  this  extent. 

PLAINFIELD,   VERMONT 

Village  Theatre 

The  stage  of  the  Town  Hall,  reconstructed  by  the 
cooperative  effort  of  the  selectmen  and  Mr.  Howard 


180  APPENDIX 

Hart,  is  used  for  frequent  village  entertainments 
and  for  productions  by  the  summer  visitors  as  well. 
Has  a  curtain  painted  by  Mr.  Maxfield  Parrish. 

ROCHESTER,   NEW  YORK 

The  Little  Theatre 

Founded  under  the  auspices  of  the  Drama  League. 
Audience  unlimited  by  membership.  Produces  one- 
act  plays  of  every  variety  with  amateur  casts  drawn 
from  a  group  of  about  one  hundred  members  whose 
services  are  given.  Play-reading  committee  of  three 
chooses  plays.     First  season. 

SAINT  LOUIS,   MISSOURI 

Little  Playhouse  Company 

Productions  limited  by  the  stage  of  the  Artist's 
Guild  Theatre.  Audience  limited  to  members  of 
society.  Has  subscription  list  so  large  that  actors 
and  stage  hands  have  been  paid  from  the  first. 
Policy  for  next  season  undetermined,  as  it  is  changing 
directors.  Has  been  under  the  direction  of  Doctor 
Masseck. 

SAINT  PAUL,   MINNESOTA 

The  Little  Theatre 

Incorporated  in  February,  1917.  Composed  of 
one  hundred  active  and  forty  associate  members. 


APPENDIX  181 

Under  the  direction  of  eleven  corporate  directors. 
Is  the  outcome  of  the  production  of  two  plays,  and 
expects  during  the  next  season  to  produce  one 
programme  a  month,  under  the  direction  of  a  pro- 
fessional coach.  Casts  are  composed  of  amateurs. 
There  is  no  theatre  as  yet,  but  negotiations  have 
been  made  to  remodel  an  abandoned  church  de- 
signed by  Cass  Gilbert. 

UNIVERSITY,   NORTH   DAKOTA 

Sock  and  Buskin  Society 

"Little  Playhouse" 

"Bankside" 

A  dramatic  laboratory  under  Mr.  Frederick 
H.  Koch  of  the  Department  of  English.  Member- 
ship limited  to  forty  and  based  upon  competi- 
tive trials.  Programmes  carefully  planned  in  co- 
operation with  the  Department  of  English.  Has 
two  theatres  —  The  Little  Playhouse  and  The 
Bankside,  an  outdoor  theatre  with  a  stream  flow- 
ing between  stage  and  audience.  Has  been  doing 
constructive  work  for  twelve  years.  Under  Mr. 
Koch's  direction  has  produced  two  pageants  {Pag- 
eants of  the  Northvesf,  1912,  and  Shakespeare  the 
Playmaker,  1016)  which  are  unique  in  that  they 
were  written  l)y  a  class  of  twenty  students  in  col- 
laboration. 


182  APPENDIX 

WASHINGTON,   D.C. 

Drama  League  Players 

Organized  1916-1917.  Supported  by  subscrip- 
tion, but  audience  not  limited  to  subscribers.  Plays 
chosen  by  a  committee  of  the  Drama  League.  Will- 
ingness to  serve  the  only  qualification  for  mem- 
bership. Services  given.  Uses  a  normal  school  as 
a  theatre, 

WASHINGTON.  D.C. 

Sylvan  Theatre 

An  out-of-door  stage  and  auditorium  (see  photo- 
graphs) built  and  to  be  maintained  by  the  War  De- 
partment in  its  administration  of  the  Park  system 
of  the  District  of  Columbia.  May  be  used  for  any 
performance  or  play  which  has  the  approval  of  the 
Office  of  Public  Buildings  and  Grounds.  Plan 
contains  seats  for  five  thousand  but  only  twenty- 
eight  hundred  were  used  at  the  initial  performance : 
these  seats  are  arranged  with  no  cross  aisles,  so  that 
the  view  is  unobstructed.  The  acoustics  are  said 
to  be  good.  The  United  States  supports  the  stage, 
including  such  details  as  lighting,  policing,  and  the 
management  of  tickets.  Other  expense  falls  upon 
the  company  giving  the  production. 


APPENDIX  183 

NOTES 

The  author's  information  in  regard  to  the  theatres 
in  the  following  cities  is  limited  to  hearsay  accounts 
of  their  existence,  as  letters  directed  to  their  manage- 
ments have  unfortunately  failed  to  elicit  response, — 

Bartlesville,  Oklahoma. 

Cleveland,  Ohio. 

Evanston,  Illinois.    ' 

Louisville,  Kentucky. 

Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania. 

CALIBAN 

Since  these  chapters  went  to  press  there  has  been 
a  new  production  of  a  remodelled  Caliban  in  the  Har- 
vard Stadium.  Naturally  great  strides  have  been 
made  in  the  technique  of  the  new  art  of  which  Cali- 
ban is  the  exponent.  In  the  perfect  circle  made  by 
stage  and  audience,  practically  all  the  text  was 
heard.  The  mechanical  device  was  elaborated,  a 
steam  curtain  which  hid  the  inner  stage  added  ma- 
terially to  the  sense  of  illusion,  and  such  old  theatri- 
cal tricks  as  the  trapdoor  were  employed  with  the 
most  telling  results.  But  the  community  spirit  was 
once  more  of  most  importance.  Behind  the  scenes 
it  was  vividly  alive,  just  as  it  had  been  in  New  York 
a  year  ago:  "out  front"  it  seemed  more  vital.  It 
may  be  that  the  recent  declaration  of  war,  and  the 


184  APPENDIX 

fresh  passages  in  the  play  which  seemed  to  touch 
that  declaration,  had  put  the  spectators  in  a  receptive 
mood.  At  any  rate,  the  Community  Drama  (for  Mr. 
MacKaye  has  avoided  the  critics  by  changing  the 
name  of  his  erstwhile  masque)  rolled  up  fresh  enthu- 
siasm with  each  passing  day  until  performances  long 
exceeded  the  advertized  number.  If  some  force  in 
the  community  had  been  at  work  for  months  before 
the  rehearsals  organizing  and  advancing  this  very 
enthusiasm,  the  giant  task  to  which  Miss  MacKaye, 
Mr.  MacKaye,  Mr.  Jones,  and  Mr.  Brown  bent  them- 
selves (with  the  help  of  thousands)  would  have  been 
much  simpler.  As  it  is,  Caliban  was  so  filled  with 
beauty  and  the  promise  of  beauty  that  we  may  well 
say,  with  the  pale-faced  shopgirl  who  followed  me 
down  the  Stadium  steps,  in  the  face  of  war  and  in  the 
face  of  sacrifice,  "Ain't  it  wonderful  to  be  livin' 
now?" 

OBERAMMERGAU 

The  war  has  swept  through  Oberammergau.  Miss 
Madeline  Doty  tells  in  an  article  in  a  recent  Atlantic 
of  how  she  found  privation  and  unhappiness  in  the 
village  when  she  visited  it  some  months  ago.  And 
now  Anton  Lang,  the  Christus  loved  of  thousands,  of 
the  delicate  body  and  spiritual  face,  must  experience 
the  reality  of  Golgotha :  the  drink  of  vinegar  and 
gall  is  set  to  his  lips :  he  is  to  descend  into  actual 
service  in  the  German  army.     How  many  times,  I 


APPENDIX  185 

wonder,  has  he  prayed  before  the  altar  in  the  moun- 
tain Church,  murmuring  in  words  famiUar  the  peti- 
tion that  the  cup  might  pass  from  him  ?  The  cruci- 
fixion which  he  has  suffered  in  spirit  has  come  to 
him,  and  with  him,  to  all  his  neighbors.  We  cannot 
be  amazed  that  the  Oberammergauers  are  broken- 
hearted and  that  in  their  discouragement  they  despair 
of  mending  their  exquisite  fabric.  But  whatever 
ancient  traditions  of  beauty  may  be  snapped  by  the 
war,  surely,  when  it  is  over,  Oberammergau  will  re- 
turn to  its  greatest  joy.  And  because  the  spirit  of 
the  Passion  Play  has  spread  across  the  sea  to  us, 
because  we  are  beginning  to  realize  the  strength  of 
Community  Drama,  it  may  fall  to  us  as  a  duty  to 
help  restore  the  actuality  to  that  little  village. 

REFERENCES 
Playgrounds. 

Chubb,  Percival,  &  Associates:    "Festivals  and  Plays 

in  Schools  and  Elsewhere."     Harper,  1912. 

An  illuminating  book,  filled  with  suggestions  for  the 

celebration  of  special  occasions. 
Curtis,  Henry  S. :    "Education  through  Play."     Mac- 

millan,  1914. 

Addressed  to  those  who  are  interested  in  play  as  an 

educational  factor. 

"The   Practical   Conduct   of    Play."     Macmillan, 

1915. 

An  excellent  text-book :    gives  aims  and  spirit  as 

well  as  methods. 


186  APPENDIX 

Froebel,  F.  W.  A. :    "  Menschenerziehung."     1826. 

A   discussion   of   the    child,   largely   before   seven 

years. 
Lee,    Joseph:     "Constructive   and   Preventive   Philos- 
ophy."    New  York,  1902. 

"Play   and   Playgrounds."     Boston,    1906.     Pam- 

plilet  for  practical  uses. 
Leland,    x\rthur,    and    Leland,    Lorna.      "Playground 

Tecluiique  and  Playcraft."     Basette,  1909. 

Contains  an  excellent  short  sketch  of  the  philosophy 

of  play. 

Pageants 

Beegle,  Mary  Porter,  and  Crawford,  J.:  "Community 

Drama  and  Pageantry."      Yale  University  Press, 

1916. 

Has  a  bibliography  of  pageantry  which  will  prove 

valuable  to  the  organizers  of  pageants.     Also  directs 

the  pageant  from  its  beginning. 
Davol,    R. :       "Handbook    of    American    Pageantry." 

Taunton. 

A  review  of  the  new  pageantry  in  America. 
Bulletins  of  the  American  Pageant  Association. 

Give  lists  of  pageants  as  they  are  produced  from 

time  to  time,  and  discuss  questions  of  interest  to  the 

producers  of  pageants. 

Oberammergau,  the  Passion  Play 
Burton,  Lady  Isabel. 

An  emotional  account  by  an  ardent  Roman  Catholic. 
Blondel,  Georges :  "Le  Drame  De  La  Passion."    Paris, 

1900. 


APPENDIX  187 

Jackson,  John  P. :   "'The  Oberammergau  Passion  Play." 

London,  1880. 

Account  of  stage,  setting,  and  procedure. 
Mallorj-,    Gerald:    "The    Passion    Play    at    Oberam- 

mergau."     Boston,  1872. 
Moses,  Montrose  J. :     "The  Passion  Play  of  Oberam- 

mergau."     Duffield,  1909. 

A  translation  of  the  text  as  well  as  an  historical 

resume  and  short  critical  discussion  of  the  origin  of 

the  play's  form. 
Stead,  ^Yilliam  :  "The  Passion  Play  at  Oberammergau." 

Stead,  London,  1910. 

A    careful    account    written    in    Oberammergau. 

Contains  emotional  reaction  as  well  as  good  pic- 
tures. 

State  Establishment  of  Theatres 

Archer,  William,  and  Barker,  Granville:  "Schemes 
and  Estimates  for  a  National  Theatre."  Duffield. 
A  treatment  of  the  National  Theatre  from  an 
English  point  of  view,  which  contains  practical 
discussions  of  value  to  the  organizer.  The  duties 
of  various  staff  members  are  treated  at  length  and 
lists  of  plays  are  suggested  for  the  Stock  or  Reper- 
tory Company. 

MacKaye,  Percy:  "Caliban  by  the  Yellow  Sands." 
Doubleday,  Page,  1916. 

The  text  of  tlie  Sliakespeare  Tercentenary  Masque, 
witli  an  account  of  tlie  methods  employed  in  its 
production. 

"The  Civic  Theatre."     Kennerley,  1912. 
A  collection  of  valuable  and  inspiring  sketches. 


188  APPENDIX 

"The  Masque  of  Saint  Louis." 

Text  of  the  masque  produced  in  Saint  Louis  as  a 

civic  venture. 

"Substitute  for  War."     Macmillan,  1915. 

A  cry  for  beauty  in  service. 

"Report    of    Committees    of     the     Saint     Louis 

Masque." 

An  illuminating  account  of  a  city  working  together 

for  civic  betterment  and  enjoyment. 

The  New  Theatre 

Craig,  Edward  Gordon:  "On  the  Art  of  the  Theatre." 
Chicago,  1912. 

Filled  with  the  voice  of  prophecy :  most  inspiring 
to  the  artist  of  the  theatre. 

Carter,  Huntley  :  "The  New  Spirit  in  Drama  and  Art." 
London. 

An  account  of  changes  in  the  Continental  Theatre 
and  in  England. 

Cheney,     Sheldon:     "The    New    Movement     in     the 
Theatre."     M.  Kennerley. 
Delightfully  clear  account  of  the  new  art  ideals. 

Moderwell,  H.  K. :    "The  Theatre  of  To-day."     Lane, 
1914. 

An  able  summing  up  of  the  forces  at  work  in  the 
new  theatre. 

Gregory,  Lady  Augusta:    "Our  Irish  Theatre."     Put- 
nam. 

The  aims  and  methods  of  the  Irish  Theatre  move- 
ment set  forth  in  an  interesting  and  readable  fashion. 


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